tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10567060527179832842024-02-08T05:13:31.540-06:00TanaverA Draft for a Novel
by Brandon WatsonBrandonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06698839146562734910noreply@blogger.comBlogger27125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1056706052717983284.post-69039116386359891762016-06-19T00:03:00.001-05:002016-06-19T00:03:14.847-05:002.2 Foreign Far-Land (I) It is inevitable in this world that if we wait long enough, something significant will change. The change for Katja came when the opaque plate in the door suddenly became transparent, and the face of a man appeared.
"We require another blood sample," he said.
Katja, who had been sitting on the bed and leaning against the wall, slid herself off and went to the door. The man was young, although likely older than Katja herself. He was not nearly as dark-skinned as the Syylven, and yet very far from being as light-skinned as the Ylfae, with large black eyes and short black hair that swept hither and thither over his forehead. The eyes were, somewhat to Katja's surprise, neither hard nor cruel.
"Would giving another sample get me out of here?" she asked, somewhat awkwardly because she had to get herself in the mindset to speak in Samthyrian.
There was a hint of a humorous twitch at the corner of his mouth, but he replied, "I am afraid that such decisions are not mine to make. But we are under quarantine, and it is certainly impossible to do anything at all without it."
She acquiesced and a compartment opened next to the door, small and so narrow and light-seamed that she had somehow missed it in her inspection of the room. She put her hand in as instructed and held it until he told her he had enough. There was a slight tingle and nothing else.
"I want to speak to someone about what is happening," she said pointedly as she waited for it to finish.
"I will ask about it," he said. "I cannot promise more." The glass plate went opaque again and Katja returned to bed.
Another meal came. Katja tried to talk with whomever it was who was bringing it, but there was no answer. More time passed,and another meal. Yet more time again, and a meal again. More time on top of that, and Katja went to sleep.
When she woke, she tried to freshen up as best she could with the sink in the cell, and as she was doing so, the plate in the door became transparent again, and the young man's face appeared. "The Prince would like to speak to you." And the door opened.
She was escorted out by the young man and four soldiers, which she thought was a more impressive escort than she quite liked, down a corridor and down another corridor, and through a heavy door, and then into a room with a table and chairs, in one of which a man was seated. Two of the guards stayed outside, two entered the room and went to different corners to stand, and the man who had escorted her sat beside the man who was already seated, motioning her to the chair across from them. She sat and examined her new acquaintance.
Like the other, he was a warm golden-brown, with black hair and eyes, but he was more impressive in every way. His shoulders were broad and even sitting one could tell he was tall. He had an air of confidence, like one who was used to command, and his dark eyes were intense and alert. There was a slight hawkishness to his face, but only very slight, enough to make all of his features, and especially his eyes, more intense. He was handsome. Despite the lighter skin could have passed for Sylven, and he looked intelligent, and was presumably the Prince, so her day was perhaps improving.
Both sides of the table were silent a moment as each side looked the other over. Finally the Prince, assuming that was who he was, said, "Tell us who you are."
She wondered a moment what a Samar might do in her situation, then said, "As I have already told you, my name is Katja Ilkaiomenen. I represent the Tanaver Alliance. May I ask your name?"
"What is your relation to the Parasite?"
Katja looked him in the eye. "Who are you?" she asked, more slowly.
His eyes narrowed slightly, and he leaned over the table. "What is your relation to the Parasite?" he said in a steely voice.
"I do not know what you mean by 'the Parasite'," she replied. "I was sent by the Tanaver to open relations, in order to assist the Samthyrian Empire with the enemy, Symbiosis, that they now face. Who are you?"
The Prince leaned back and looked at her a moment. "What is in the vials you were carrying when we found you?"
"As I said at the time, they are supposed to contain a cure."
"How does this 'cure' work?"
"I do not know," she replied, "I am not a biochemist and had nothing to do with its development." Then, after a moment's beat: "And your name is?"
He ignored her question again. "Our tests say that you are human, and that you have no trace of the Parasite in your system, but there are many anomalies, some of which we do not fully understand. Where are you from?"
"I am from another place entirely." She paused "Another universe, in fact," wondering as she said it whether she sounded crazy. She put her sanest expression, or at least what she thought was her sanest expression, on her face.
The Prince, however, did not skip a beat. "And how did you get here?"
<i>If we are bound to say crazy things, anyway</i>, she thought, and then she said, "I do not know the precise details. I walked through the Gates of Death and found myself here."
"The Gates of Death."
"Yes."
"Am I supposed to know what you mean by that?"
"Since I do not know who you are," Katja retorted, "I have no way of knowing what you are supposed to know. But you have asked me questions and I have answered them. I am Katja Ilkaiomenen. I am a plenipotentiary envoy of the Tanaver Alliance, and I am so far not impressed by how you treat ambassadors. I was given, as a sign of good faith, a medicine that is both vaccine and cure for the plague you currently face, and a record of military intelligence that I was told your computer systems could access. And my question is still unanswered. Who are you?"
The lips of the man who had escorted her noticeably twitched at the edges. The Prince's eyes narrowed again, and Katja decided on the moment that narrowed eyes made his face look decidedly less handsome and intelligent. There was a long pause, as the Prince's fingers drummed thoughtfully on the edge of the table.
Then he spoke. "I am Paul of the House of the Hand of Steel."
At those words, she caught her breath, because there flashed through her mind an image she had almost forgotten. It was from the dream she had had so many times before she had suddenly been rushed from home, the one which ended with her in a pool, looking up at the surface, through which broke a metallic hand. She took a deep breath.
"I was told that I would be talking to the Prince. I presume you are the Prince?"
"I am indeed the High Prince," he said gravely, although the other man's mouth twitched again.
"Is there any way I should be addressing you? In stories where I come from, the address of a prince is always something like..." (she had to pause to think through the translation, because the correspondences in her head seemed fuzzy at this point) "...like 'Your Hightness'."
"'Your Highness' is the usual means, among us as well. But outside of formal court, it would only be used if you or I had just entered, or if the occasion required special formality; otherwise, 'Sir' is most common. But in all honesty the protocols for ambassadors are archaic and little-used today; I do not know what they actually require." Then: "If Your Excellency would find it acceptable, I would be honored for you to join us for dinner."
"I would be delighted, Your Highness," she said with what she hoped was a gracious smile. Then, with embarrassment, she said, "Would it be possible for me to get another change of clothes? I am afraid I have nothing to wear that's appropriate."
"I do not know if there is anything much better," he said, "but I will investigate the matter, ma'am. I will also look into the possibility of better quarters for you, but this is a small ship, and we are quite crowded at the moment. In the meantime, I will have to ask that you stay in your current quarters." Then, to the other man, "Samuel, escort the ambassador to her quarters."
And Samuel said, "Yes, sir," and he and the armed escort returned her to her cell.
[1475]Brandonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06698839146562734910noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1056706052717983284.post-76686350007670369622016-02-12T22:52:00.001-06:002016-02-12T22:52:25.904-06:002.1 A Dangerous Meeting (II)The flight was uneventful. The soldiers remained helmeted; she saw no faces. Strapped into the small space of the shuttle there was very little to see at all.<br />
<br />
Katja had never been in a ship of this sort. On her homeworld, of course, planet-to-orbit ships were launched by long, high-speed rail; on Metsenia, the only other world she had visited before her recent adventures, they launched like planes. Neither of these methods, however, were designed to maximize the speed of launch. This ship, however, was clearly designed to land and launch as swiftly as possible. There was the turbulent pressure of intense acceleration, liking sliding down a rocky hill in a barrel, then, suddenly it was like the barrel slid off the hill into the air, and suddenly all was weightless.<br />
<br />
Katja had never been weightless, either; Sylven ships, adapted from basic Ylfae technology, reduced the feel of transition into space. The difference could be felt; one often had a sense of lightness. But you never stopped feeling down and up, and the transition from the natural vertical to the artificial was smooth. To start feeling weightlessness and drift was a new sensation, almost like a change of bodies. It was not a sensation she liked, and it make her nauseous. Later she was glad it did not go beyond the feeling of nausea; but at the time, the nausea was bad enough. Fortunately, some machine hummed and the sanity of the world was slowly restored.<br />
<br />
Under her breath she said part of the <i>sanalassa</i> of Sickness:<br />
<br />
<i>Sickness I know, a malevolent wind, </i><br />
<i>daughter of death and seeping ill. </i><br />
<i>Death itself was splashed upon a stone, </i><br />
<i>re-formed like quicksilver, whole again, </i><br />
<i>but drops remained, like mist on cold steel...</i><br />
<br />
The sick feeling in the stomach remained, but it was no longer at the front of her mind. The greatest part of her discomfort consisted in nothing more than being crammed into a small box with a significant number of tightly packed armored men, one on each side of her and men directly across the way.<br />
<br />
There were several jolts as the ship either changed its course or pushed itself up into a higher orbit, and by this point Katja was singularly unimpressed by the quality of Samthyrian technology; she felt like she was strapped to a leaf in gusting winds. Then there was a long period that seemed like nothing happened, and she was beginning to feel like her legs would atrophy if she did not stand up and walk around when there was a voice from an intercom: "Prepare for quarantine docking," it said in Samthyrian.<br />
<br />
After the bumpy flight, Katja expected the docking to be equally crude, but it went quite smoothly; there was no sensation at all before an announcement indicated that it had finished.<br />
<br />
She was unceremoniously raised to her feet and pushed through the ship, through a hatchway, and then down a short corridor snugly fitting the hatchway. Down the short corridor, white-walled and blank, she went, through another hatchway, into a small decontamination room.<br />
<br />
"Stand still," said the soldier who was doing all the guiding. So she stood still, at gunpoint, while the machines in the room did unspecified things.<br />
<br />
A small box came out of a wall near her; it had a slot in it. "Put your hand in the slot," the soldier said.<br />
<br />
Katja did not feel like putting her hand in a mystery slot, but she did not feel like being shot, either. She put her hand in the slot. Something grabbed her hand, and while she struggled against, she felt a sharp, quick prick in her finger; it continued to hold her hand, and then there was another pain, not quite like a prick, and it let it go. Katja stared at her hand for a moment; there was no blood, but by the slowly ebbing heartbeat-rhythmed pain she knew a blood sample had been taken.<br />
<br />
A green light flashed, and she was moved down another short corridor into a room, dimly lit but as white-walled and blank as the corridors had been. A door was closed behind her. She was alone.<br />
<br />
The trip from ship to cell had raised her heartrate and left her breathless. It took a moment for her nerves to settle down, and when she did, she leaned back against one of the blank, white walls, and with a very large sigh, sank down the wall to the floor.<br />
<br />
She sat there, she knew not how long, until a slight cramping in the legs motivated her to stand and look around. At first glance, with nothing but white meeting the eye, the room had seemed just a smooth white box, but now that her wits were more about her, she found it to have much more texture. There were handholds in various places on the wall, no doubt for low-gravity situations, as with any properly designed spaceship. There were also small recesses that could be pressed. Pressing one led to a bed slowly folding outward from the wall; pressing another did the same with a vacuum toilet; pressing a third revealed what she at first thought was a drawer but which in fact turned out to be a shallow sink with a transparent top and an optional vacuum function, also for low-gravity situations. The sink sprayed a fine mist, pure water if one button was pressed and something water-like but soapy-smelling if another button was pressed.<br />
<br />
On one side of the room, opposite that through which she had entered, she found a door, almost but not quite seamlessly flush with the wall, nearly invisible. There was, of course, no way to open it from this side. A small square on the door turned out to have the texture of glass. It was white and opaque, but Katja suspected electrically so; pressing a button or flipping a switch somewhere would likely make it transparent.<br />
<br />
After all the exploration of the small space, Katja knew no more about the intentions of her captors, about the fate in store for her, about how she might fulfill her missions given that her first step in doing so had resulted her being locked in a room. Perhaps she had already failed. Perhaps she would be locked in this room for the rest of her life. Perhaps the rest of her life would be quite short. There was no way at that point to know for sure. But all the time exploring had been time that she had spent not worrying about such things, and as such she regarded it as time well spent. With nothing else to do, she lay down on the bed and tried, not altogether successfully, to take up some more time with sleep.<br />
<br />
She lay there, staring at the ceiling, for a very long time.<br />
<br />
At some point, while she was half-dozing, not quite asleep and yet without a waking presence of mind, she heard a noise. It took some time for it to register, but when she opened her eyes and looked for the source, she found a slot had opened in the door, like a drawer, and in the little drawer was a tray of food. More exploration: a nasty-tasting meaty bar that was also unfortunately spicy-hot, a stick of string cheese, and a cylinder that turned out to be a sort of spray for water, once she had spent several minutes figuring out how it worked and squirting herself in the face in the process. It was the worst meal she had had in a very long time.<br />
<br />
She hummed a song from the <i>Venahana</i>. She recited to herself long sections of <i>Sylevid</i>. She ran through all the <i>suuvo</i> she could remember. She had not had her daily <i>suvo</i> since she had left the Island, and decided that this needed to change. So she settled on one:<br />
<br />
<i>Wise answers only patience can give;</i><br />
<i>for true answers one must first learn all.</i><br />
<br />
It seemed as good a fit for her situation as any.<br />
<br />
She slept and was fed again, then slept again. In all this time she had seen no one, spoken to no one. Somehow it seemed almost worse than having a gun pointed at her, and she wondered for a while if the Tanaver and Samar had somehow made a mistake. The doubt and worry were perhaps more dangerous than anything else she had experienced in this universe.<br />
<br />
[1405]<br />
<br />Brandonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06698839146562734910noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1056706052717983284.post-26602865403281853802016-02-02T19:55:00.001-06:002016-02-02T19:55:39.310-06:002.1 A Dangerous Meeting (I)There was no transit, no travel, no delay. Katja stepped through the Gates of Death and found herself in a long room that seemed to be a laboratory. A centrifuge steadily whirred in the corner. A faucet on the side of the room was dripping into a metal sink. Those were the only sounds, beside the sound of her own breathing and her heartbeat in her eyes.<br />
<br />
"Hello?" she said uncertainly in Samthyrian, looking around. No one answered. <br />
<br />
She had never really considered what she would find on the other side, but now that she was there, she realized that she had also never expected just to find herself in an empty room. There are few times in our lives in which we are truly without any idea what should, or even could, be done next. Katja had once met someone with serious and consistent problems with his short-term memory. If you set such a person in a familiar, information-rich environment, he can usually think of what to do; he will do the usually expected thing, or look around to see his options. But if you put him in a room with nothing but blank walls and close the door, he will stand in bafflement, perhaps frustration, in a room he cannot remember entering for a purpose he cannot discern and in which he has no discernible options. She began to have some notion how he might have felt. While Katja remembered everything that had happened recently, all of that was literally in another universe. She did not know where she was. She did not know why she was here, of all places. She could say nothing about the planet. She did not know whom she should contact, or how to contact them. It might as well have been blank walls in an unfamiliar room with no discernible future.<br />
<br />
She sighed. Should she stay here and wait for someone? Should she go and try to find someone? Why did the Tanaver keep throwing her into unfamiliar situations? For that matter, why did she keep letting them do so?--As if she could stop them.--But that was hardly an excuse here, since they had asked her permission to throw her into a new universe for a mission for which she was woefully unqualified, and she had accepted.--But there was nothing to do, in any case. "A dangerous meeting," Kubiri had said, and now she had no options but to go and try to find it.<br />
<br />
All this puzzlement about what to do next, however, was wasted, for the matter was decided for her. Before Katja had even finished arguing with herself, before she had been able to take more than a step from the point where she had been standing, the doors at both ends of the room burst open and men poured through them. They were dressed in black from head to toe, with helmets on their heads and objects in their hands that were very clearly some kind of terrible weapon. Katja put her hands in the air, with one hand still holding her bag, and tried to collect her thoughts -- so difficult to think clearly in a foreign language when there are men with guns suddenly surrounding you!<br />
<br />
She tried to say something, but was beaten to it. "Who are you?" someone shouted at her. She tried to say something again, but the response was apparently not swift enough. "Who are you? What did you do to the rest?"<br />
<br />
"I am Katja Ilkaiomenen," she said in a rush, trying to get it out before they shouted at her again. "I am with the Tanaver, I...."<br />
<br />
"Who are you?" someone shouted again. But this time it was a boon, because all of a sudden Katja remembered that Kubiri had said she must make something clear from the beginning.<br />
<br />
"I come with the cure! For the plague you are facing!"<br />
<br />
They did not shout at her again, but one of the soldiers -- for such she supposed they were -- said, "What do you mean, the cure?"<br />
<br />
"I am Katja Ilkaiomenen, I am the ambassador for the Tanaver Alliance. We want to provide assistance in your struggle with Symbiosis. I have the cure."<br />
<br />
The soldier who had spoken last, snapped an order to one of the others -- not, it was not an order, he was saying the man's name, Samuel -- and that soldier stepped up and waved at her something that was, to her relief, not gun-like.<br />
<br />
"None of the external signs," he said. Then, to Katja, sharply. "Put your bag on the table. Remove your belt, put it on the table. Slowly!" When her hand moved down, he snapped even more sharply, "Slowly!"<br />
<br />
She complied, and he waved his device over both, and then opened the bag and waved his device over the contents.<br />
<br />
"Samuel!" the authoritative soldier said.<br />
<br />
"Nothing explosive that I can find, but for the rest, I have no idea, sir. It needs to be analyzed."<br />
<br />
"Yohan, keep an eye on her." One of the soldiers with an especially nasty-looking weapon stepped up and pointed it at her. "Bachir, alef-one quarantine, high alert. Let's get off this insane planet." Then, raising his voice, he said to the whole room, "Moving out!"<br />
<br />
And they moved out, Katja at Yohan's gunpoint. <i>A dangerous meeting</i>, she thought to herself. <i>Do not enter except with courage</i>, she thought to herself. <i>Right roads</i>, she thought to herself. But if it happens that there was an acidic edge to these thoughts, perhaps no one will blame her.<br />
<br />
They pushed her steadily, and not quite gently, through empty halls and past empty rooms, across an empty courtyard and down an empty stairway and through more empty halls with empty rooms. The emptiness was not silent, however, and that made it all the more uncanny. It was as if the entire complex had been busy just minutes before everyone had vanished into thin air. Machines dinged and whirred off in the side rooms. In many of the rooms and in some of the halls screens hung on the wall, flashing pictures and murmuring conversations to no one at all. Somewhere in the distance a bell was ringing, and ringing, and ringing. All of the hustle and bustle and hurry and flurry of civilized life went on, noisier and more active, in fact, than any Sylven building ever would be, but here there was no one living any of it.<br />
<br />
Once, and only once, was there more, and that was outside. They had come out into bright, sweltering sunlight, sticky and humid, and Katja, who was wearing her original snowgear, found it disorienting. She stumbled down the steps and slipped to the grown. As one of the men helped her to her feet, she saw it off to the side.<br />
<br />
It was a man, or what was left of a man. He had dark brown skin with jet black hair and was wearing a uniform of some kind whose original color had been light blue. But his face and arm were covered, and his uniform soaked, with blood that was drying but not yet dried. He had been ripped open, and one of his arms were missing.<br />
<br />
Katja gagged and put her hand over her mouth as the soldiers pushed her forward. It was several minutes afterward, away down the road, when she was finally able to choke out, "What did you do to him?"<br />
<br />
One of the soldiers, she thought the one that had been giving the orders before, turned to give her a long look, but no one answered her question.<br />
<br />
Down the road they went, then left across a field. The grass was thick and green. It was dotted liberally with a daisy-like flower, white ray florets in a halo around yellowish disc florets, which for some reason would particularly stick in Katja's mind for days to come. It was an idyllic scene, contrasting with the sick feeling she had inside, and everything seemed to stand out too much, crowding the attention. They soon came to a ship in the middle of the field, with a few soldiers managing what looked like some kind of mounted gun. Up the ramp they went, with the mounted guns being stowed away with surprising speed behind them. The door closed. The ship lifted off.<br />
<br />
Katja hoped that they would not kill her. <i>How sad and absurd it would be to fail my mission entirely within an hour of having stepped through the gate</i>, she thought.<i>--</i>Kubiri had said that she had been chosen for it because she could do it. He had warned her it would not be immediately easy, but she could do it.--That was comforting.<br />
<br />
But she still hoped that they would not kill her.<br />
<br />
[1468]Brandonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06698839146562734910noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1056706052717983284.post-25597404306093014402012-12-01T00:43:00.000-06:002012-12-01T11:21:15.509-06:001.12 The Gates of Death (II)They soon docked at another space station.<br />
<br />
"Here we are at the Tanaver system," said Kubiri. "We're in orbit above the third planet, the planet Tanaver. The second planet is the Chaktai planet."<br />
<br />
"Does this station have an elevator like the last one did?"<br />
<br />
"Not exactly," said Kubiri. He opened a door and gestured for Katja to go through it. She did.<br />
<br />
And found herself suddenly standing on a platform, which in turn was on a tall cliff overlooking a sea full of waves. She froze, uncertain what had happened.<br />
<br />
"Not much like an elevator, is it?" asked Kubiri, who was now standing beside her.<br />
<br />
After a second or two of trying to speak, she finally managed to say, "How is this even possible?"<br />
<br />
"The Tanaver have a somewhat great discretion about which laws of space and time they will obey than the rest of us do," said Kubiri. "Or, to put it in other words, even the Samar do not know. These things happen on occasion. Telepathy should be impossible, and yet the Chaktai have it. Who knows what else they have; there are times when they seem capable of ten impossible things at a time. We do not know how Zezai consciousness maintains itself. And as for the Tanaver, they know all the loopholes in all the laws of nature, it seems. We know that there is something they do with the Portals to make them more temporally coherent than they should theoretically be. We do not know what it is. We Samar can build Portals ourselves, but we cannot, and perhaps could never, make them work on the scale the Tanaver do. And this place...," he turned and gestured at the building behind them, a great building of domes and spires. "The name of this place in Simplified Samar is the Palace of Wonders, and it lives up to its name. Come along; we need to finish getting you set.<br />
<br />
They practiced more of the Samthyrian language as they walked. Their footsteps and their discussion made echoing sounds as they went along. The whole place seemed deserted. They passed many rooms that were completely empty and many others that were empty except a table or a cabinet. They walked a very long time, until Kubiri finally stopped before yet one more room, this one empty except for a table with a large box on it.<br />
<br />
"I believe this is the one," he said. He went in and opened the box. "Yes, this is very definitely the one." He pulled out a sheet of paper and read it.<br />
<br />
"These are final instructions," he said. "First of all, you must understand that the Samthyrians are facing a severe and demoralizing plague. Therefore your xenium to them, your ambassadorial gift to show them that you come in good faith, is medicine for it. It is simultaneously vaccine and cure." He pulled out a belt with little vials in it and a little leather box, also filled with vials. "You should put the belt on, and you should put the box in your bag. It is important that you do not lose them before you can give them to the Samthyrians. Also, you must make very clear from the beginning that you come with the cure, and you should expect them to be suspicious of you until they are able to prove for themselves that you are right.<br />
<br />
"Second, part of what you will be negotiating is military assistance. You will receive more information about this later, but the initial assistance will consist simply in intelligence." He pulled out a little stick. "This is the information, adapted for their computer systems. It is important that you not lose it and that it only come into the hands of the Samthyrians, and no one else.<br />
<br />
"Third, the ideal goal will be for them to sign on to the Alliance Charter; information on that treaty is also found with the intelligence. Look for any honest means you can to persuade them not merely to be allies but members of the Alliance.<br />
<br />
"Fourth, as other strands come together, further representatives and assistance will come to you, but you will largely be on your own at first, and your primary goal should be simply to establish good will. The Tanaver will also contact you when they deem it possible to do so without risking the danger of conflict between the Tanaver and their counterparts before the Tanaver are capable of assessing the situation fully.<br />
<br />
"And Fifth." Kubiri looked very grave. "This is, again, a dangerous meeting. If you can win their trust the Samthyrians will treat you well. But there is a danger that you will be captured by Symbiosis, who are the agents used by the Tanaver's counterparts. If they do so, you may be tortured, and you may die. The Tanaver do not consider either of these a likely possibility, but their assessments of probabilities are not as accurate as they usually are, because they do not usually have to account for the interference of someone like themselves. You are not to make any concessions to or deals with Symbiosis; they will not honor any deals you make, because they must ultimately answer to a coercive force greater than they can resist, who will not care about treaties and agreements. You must hold the line, and you must represent the Alliance to the full extent of your ability. You are to resist to the full extent you can. One reason a Sylven was chosen is that you are used to resisting the kinds of temptations that Symbiosis will extend; you were chosen because you could, if you choose to do so. That is precisely what you must do, for while the plans of the Tanaver will not fall apart if you fail, your failure would force others into positions of great sacrifice."<br />
<br />
He set the paper down. "As for the rest, you have full discretion as plenipotentiary envoy of the Alliance. You are the direct representative of the Tanaver and speak for them in all things. You have also been designated a representative by the Chaka Council of Threefold Mothers and by the Samar High Council; you may make any decisions on their behalf that you deem fit, always subject to the understanding that any agreements you make are provisional and subject to review. And that is all the information I have." He regarded her carefully. "Are you ready?"<br />
<br />
Katja sighed. "I am wondering what I have gotten myself into," she said. "But yes, I believe I am."<br />
<br />
"Then follow me."<br />
<br />
He led her down the hall again, past many empty rooms. They went down stairs, then down more stairs, then through another long corridor, then down more stairs, until they came to a very large room that had nothing in it but an archway. It was solid and black and shiny, as if basalt had suddenly somersaulted out of the ground. You could not look through the archway. It was pitch black, like a starless midnight, differentiated from the basalt of the arch only by its lack of shine. Katja grew cold looking at it.<br />
<br />
On the archway something was written in letters like runes, and Katja asked Kubiri what they meant.<br />
<br />
He looked up at them a moment and said, "They are Chaka, a very old dialect." He pulled out his tablet, and tapped it for a while, then said, "The translation is something like, <i>Here Our Mother has set Her doors. Do not enter except with courage. These are the Gates of Death.</i>"<br />
<br />
At that phrase Katja stopped, frozen in place, chills at th base of her spine and her heart beating in her ears. She had to force herself to breathe.<br />
<br />
"I do not know if I can do this, Kubiri."<br />
<br />
"You have been chosen because you can."<br />
<br />
She took a deep breath. "Well," she said to herself in Sylven, "I suppose it is too late now to run away." She looked down at Kubiri. "What do I do?" she asked in Simplifed Samar.<br />
<br />
He smiled slightly, lips pushed out in the Samar way, and adjusted his fedora. "You just walk through," he said. "The Tanaver will take care of the rest."<br />
<br />
Then he put his hands out in a way that she knew too well, and she felt a sharp pang in her heart, and a slight sting in her eyes. "Katja Ilkaiomenen," he said, "the Universes are vast, and it is likely that we will never meet again. But if you should ever be in the Samar system of Nibiru, visit if you can the dome of Harsan-Narsidya on the sixteenth moon of the second gas-giant. If you ask for me, the people there will know who I am, and send you my way, if I am there. And if you can find me, we will look at all the sights of the domes, which were built by my father and mother, and visit the tomb of my grandparents, where flowers always grow in splendor on that moon where no flowers naturally grow. We will sit beside it and look at the stars, and there on the edge of infinity, we will speak of beautiful things."<br />
<br />
By the last phrase a single tear had escaped Katja's attempt to hold them back, and she bent down and hugged him. "Thank you for everything, Kubiri."<br />
<br />
"It was a pleasure and an honor."<br />
<br />
"What will you be doing now?"<br />
<br />
"I am supposed to go work out a resource distribution system for a satellite system for the Ops. Then I should have a vacation period to go home, assuming no emergencies arise."<br />
<br />
"That should be nice."<br />
<br />
Kubiri pursed his lips and his eyes twinkled. "There is another old Samarisk proverb that translates roughly as 'There is always an emergency'. I will be lucky to have a few hours of it. But the thought is what counts."<br />
<br />
Katja felt herself smiling, and it was a relief to smile. "Do you have any last-minute advice?"<br />
<br />
"Only the advice I always give. You may represent the Tanaver, but it is not your task to do their work for them. Your task is to find the beautiful action and do it, find the beautiful word and say it, find the beautiful life and live it. If you fail at that, no other success will be enough. But if you succeed at that, you have succeeded indeed, no matter what the universes throw at you."<br />
<br />
She nodded and walked slowly toward the archway. Before she was quite there, she looked back at Kubiri, who waved. Then Katja took a deep breath again. "<i>Right roads</i>," she said, and, steeling herself, she walked through the Gates of Death into another universe.<br />
<br />
[1793]Brandonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06698839146562734910noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1056706052717983284.post-4904200443510190462012-12-01T00:41:00.002-06:002012-12-01T00:54:47.725-06:001.12 The Gates of Death (I)After a long bath (she indulged, and figured that she had a right to indulge at this point), Katja met with Kubiri and Sunaram for a quick lunch. Then, as Katja and Kubiri prepared to leave, Kubiri and Sunaram said their farewells.<br /><br />Sunaram: "Kubiri and Katja! The Universes are vast, and it is likely that we will never meet again. But if you are ever on the Samar world of Samtana, and can visit the Island of Orva, which has beaches of pink shell and clear waters with just the faintest hint of blue, then find the little village on the northeastern shore, where the great rocks rise out of the sea, casting up their seaspray. Then ask for me, Sunaram, and if I am there, we will spend a day on the beach, watching the children play in the waves. We will listen to their songs weaving with the rush of the tide and we will speak of beautiful things."<br /><br />Kubiri: "Sunaram, the Universes are vast, and it is likely that we will never meet again. But if you should ever be in the Samar system of Nibiru, take a shuttle to the sixteenth moon of the second gas-giant, and visit the domes there, which are sometimes called Harsan-Narsidya. Ask for Kubiri, and if you can find me, we will go out to the Tower of the Crystal Flats, and from there look out upon the sparkling and crystalline fields as the planet, with its great rings, rises in the sky; and as we watch, we will speak of beautiful things."<br /><br />And then they were off. Not staying in one place was starting to be second nature.<br /><br />Katja and Kubiri practiced more of the language. It was slowly becoming more clear, but it was not easy. It was like having learned a language long ago, so long ago that it had been forgotten, and then being exposed to it once more. What seemed like gibberish at first slowly began to make sense, as first one phrase then another sounded familiar, and the phrases slowly came together to make some sense, although sometimes they did not. It took effort. She had to concentrate to follow the sounds. But it was like have a natural talent for the language. She also found that she could speak it, although it was in short, fragmentary phrases at first, and the sounds of the language were very difficult to make. Some of the consonants had to be coughed more than spoken.<br /><br />When she tired of that, they talked of various other things. At one point, she asked, "Kubiri, do all Samar always wear hats?"<br /><br />To which Kubiri replied, "Let me put it this way. There is an old Samariska proverb about the importance of always remembering the essentials that translates roughly as, 'The world may be falling down, but don't forget your hat.'"<br /><br />They also talked about the mission.<br /><br />"I have been looking at the data for the particular society in question," said Kubiri, opening his tablet. "We have received information from the Limmer, who have been monitoring it. It is very partial and often approximate, but some things can be said about it." He turned the tablet toward her and showed her a screen consisting entirely of a series of numbers in various colors.<br /><br />"This," he said, "is the Samthyrian Empire. This first number here indicates that it, like the Syylven, approaches being a single-species civilization -- 'approaches' because there are often incidental species, pets and domestic work animals and so forth, who are partially integrated into the civilization. This next string of numbers has the biological defaults for the civilization. As I mentioned before, they are very similar to the Syylven; we do not have precise information, but on all points where we do have information, they are indistinguishable from your species, and so can be classed as secondary ylfoids. The next series of numbers are basic information about their economic system -- as with the Syylven it is primarily a money economy, but it has a much smaller credit component and much greater gift and barter components, making it a bit more like the Samar economy than the Sylven economy is. The next series indicates political structures, which, despite being an Empire, are mostly decentralized and weak; a large amount of self-governance and government by consensus is expected, and where more is needed, one would expect it usually to be provided by the local government rather than the central government. It is a federal commonwealth system with personal union in an Emperor, a supreme governing body, superior even to the Emperor, and a complex system of contractual and hereditary allegiances. Then this whole long series of numbers gives general information about its custom and culture. The thing that stands out most is that its customs and cultures tend primarily to be timarchical, honor-based. Part of what makes it stand out is the next series of numbers, which give us estimated population and a rough picture of the distribution. I can see why the Tanaver would find it an interesting and distinctive society; it is a galaxy-wide empire of secondary ylfoids with a highly unified timarchical culture."<br /><br />"Is that unusual?" said Katja, who hadn't recognized some of the words Kubiri had used, and had to guess about several others based on roots.<br /><br />"'Unusual' is not the right word. It's theoretically impossible. Ylfae and other primary ylfoids are capable of coherent societies on a massive scale, but while you secondary ylfoids have many virtues, large-scale coherence is not generally one of them. They tend to have difficulty even getting out among the stars, much less spreading across a galaxy. Secondary ylfoids would not ever be expected to achieve a civilization that large without active assistance, which seems to be lacking here. And if they did achieve it, one would expect it to begin disintegrating within a generation or two, but this has been long-term, with only minor scuffles. And even if they did achieve a civilization this extensive, and even if they did manage to keep it for generations, it should not have a culture this coherent. Relative isolation of one part from another would on its own lead to significant deviations; while honor-based segments would survive, one would expect that the bulk of the culture would break down into something based more on a mix of profit or pleasure. I cannot even imagine the mechanisms that would result in an honor-based culture this sophisticated. The sheer energy and effort that would have to go into maintaining it even against ordinary random drift boggles the mind. Mystery upon mystery; it is a society that should not exist. I suspect we are missing some crucial information. But, if this information is even roughly accurate, it bodes well; they are suspicious of strangers, but are unusually xenodochial, almost at Samar levels. If you can win their trust at first, things should go quite well."<br /><br />Katja did not understand all of that, either, but she had been struck by a thought. "Tell me," she said, "do you have a dossier like this on the Syylven?"<br /><br />Kubiri drew back a bit and looked at her carefully. Then he said, "Yes, we do. We have dossiers on all Protectorates and all Wards that fall under Samar jurisdiction throughout the Seven Universes."<br /><br />"What does ours say about us?"<br /><br />"It is usually not considered wise," Kubiri said slowly, "to speak with the members of the civilization in question about their civilization's file. Most civilizations cultivate illusions about themselves that become painful to uncover. And the information is often at only a very general typological level; what is typical can freely admit of significant deviations, and thus is not usually of much personal use for anyone within the civilization itself." <br /><br />He considered. Finally he said, "But in this case I think we can make an exception." Without turning the tablet around, he navigated to another screen, also full of numbers in an array of colors. "This is the Syylven. You know, of course, your basic biological defaults, but two things are particularly noticeable, that distinguish the Sylven from other species of this general type. The first is manual and somatic dexterity; you are very good on the latter and excel even the Samar at the former. You are tool-users in an eminent degree. This combines with your neurophysiology in a very effective way: you are tool-makers as well as tool-users. With this kind of profile, it would be almost impossible for you not to have an extensive tool culture; so much so that you probably don't even notice the full extent to which you make and use tools. While there would be a great deal of variation, you will, under almost any circumstances, be a society of technicians. The second feature is that your neurophysiology is such that you are almost incapable of separating abstract thought from imagination."<br /><br />"That sounds bad," said Katja.<br /><br />"It is not. You are perfectly capable of abstract thought, it's just that it would be constrained by a very strong association with thought about sensory information, and not highly detachable, as it is with, say, the Samar. The typical Sylven would be better at working through tangible problems than very abstract problems; and probably would find intensive abstract thought very tiring and unpleasant. However, a certain sort of semi-abstract thought would fit your neurophysiology very well: you are born storytellers, and would have a very high degree of narrative comprehension, at least in general. Combined with your tool use, we can already form a rough sketch of your scientific progress: the typical Sylven would have a strong preference for mechanical explanations over other kinds of explanation -- mechanical explanations, of course, are at base stories that treat the universe like a set of tools, and what is more, they are stories, you can use to make more tools. You would have a strong tendency to rely on experimental conjecture and trial-and-error testing. A more abstract-minded culture would proceed more deliberately, working out the abstract theory on a much greater scale at a much faster speed, and would tend to be far more selective about their experimental work. But the Syylven would probably require extensive experimentation even to work out the implications of many of their theories. This makes scientific progress extremely resource-intensive, and thus subject in a high degree to economic constraints. You would tend to jump to implications by analogy rather than by any sort of rigorous path. You would do fairly well, but there are things completely out of reach of such an approach. The Syylven are capable of a wide range of social structures, but in all of them one would expect a large number of Syylven to have difficulty distinguishing their private interest from the common good, and a yet larger number to have difficulty preferring the common good to their private interest even when capable of distinguishing them. Your societies would be highly vulnerable to usurious pathologies -- what is the Sylven phrase? 'Trying to get something from nothing.' It would appeal to your story-telling natures and to your weakness in abstraction, and would create an extraordinary tendency to self-destruction."<br /><br />Katja felt deflated after this, particularly since she was certain that diplomatic Kubiri was avoiding some of the harsher things he could have said.<br /><br />Kubiri must have noticed, because he smiled his Samar smile and said, "You see, you should not encourage me so much on these matters; once I get started it turns into a lecture, and who wants to be lectured? You must keep in mind that we can only track general tendencies and typical profiles: there would be considerable statistical spread on most of these things. The background profile would lead one to expect that you were completely bound to one system, but we see that this is not the case; you are a space-faring civilization. And these things are more sources of puzzles than answers. For instance, drawing."<br /><br />"Drawing?"<br /><br />"Yes. From what I've been able to see of your civilization, drawing is not an extensive part of your culture or your education. That is strange. It should be almost natural to you; you have the right hands, the right brains, for it. And it is a very useful skill, suitable for everything from art to scientific study to drafting. It should be an extensive part of your lives, like singing is for the Samar. But although I looked explicitly for it when I was researching your culture before I had met you, I saw no evidence of it. Do the Sylven draw much?"<br /><br />"No," said Katja slowly. "I don't think we do. I certainly don't."<br /><br />"You see? It is a puzzle. There must be some impeding cause that is not showing up in our data. That is the way of things. No Samar would dare rely on this sort of information to give more than a general idea of the kinds of solutions that might be most suitable to your society in general, and the kinds of problems that one would probably have to take care to avoid in those solutions. This can be useful information. But in the end the only way to get things done is to take things as they are rather than as you expect them to be; no matter how excellent one's data, no matter how rigorous one's simulations, there are always things that slip through the net."<br /><br />[2247]Brandonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06698839146562734910noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1056706052717983284.post-45638272703142581632012-12-01T00:39:00.002-06:002012-12-01T00:54:19.827-06:001.11 Pavilion (II)They ascended the stairs and Sunaram led Katja around the Pavilion to a place where the base jutted out so as to be surrounded by sand on three sides. Sunaram opened her tablet and tapped it a few times with her finger. Then she said, "It should be ready now. You will have to be at the end of the platform. I recommend that you sit rather than stand; it might be disconcerting, and you wouldn't want to fall off."<br /><br />Katja did as she was told. The horizon was a ruddy, hazy smudge of color. As she was wondering what would happen next, she suddenly realized that the smudge was becoming bigger. It was not just the color of the atmosphere, but a very different thing entirely: a sandstorm. A low buzz began to permeate the air.<br /><br />"What is that?" Katja shouted, pointed to the oncoming storm.<br /><br />"That is the Zezai!" shouted Sunaram. "It will not harm you! Try to stay calm!"<br /><br />The buzzing grew louder, then even louder. Katja's heart was pounding in her ears. The sandstorm was delineated more sharply now; its edges did not taper off but were continually curling back into it. It drew closer, and the buzzing intensified. There was a feeling of electricity in the air.<br /><br />It was only a few seconds more when Katja realized that hte sandstorm was not a sandstorm, or at least was not only a sandstorm. There was a reason for the buzzing, because the storm was a storm of insects as much as one of sand. The buzz was the endless serrated rasp of little flying creatures swarming like locusts. A breeze blew some of the storm in her face, stinging her eyes; she closed them and felt the wind pick up around her, gritty and rough. The insects did not, as she had feared they were, swarm all over her, but they did occasionally bump into her during flight. It was like being in the middle of a cloud of gnats. She closed her eyes tighter. She was squeamish about insects and the gnat-like swarm was giving her creepy-crawly chills. It is possible that she would have screamed, if she hadn't been so afraid of getting a mouthful of them.<br /><br />The wind picked up; she felt coated with dust, and the buzzing was very loud, but the insects seemed to touch her less and less frequently. It was hard to breath without coughing, and she would only cough with her mouth clenched closed, so she occasionally felt like she was choking. Then the wind picked up more, but felt less gritty. The buzzing grew quieter and quieter, until finally it sounded faint and far away. She cautiously opened one eye a tiny slit and, when it seemed safe, she opened them entirely. Everything seemed as it had been except that she was covered head to toe with a fine coating of dust.<br /><br />She felt a touch on her shoulder and started, but it was only Kubiri. They had brought a mobile cot down the platform. Katja tried to stand, but found herself suddenly very wobbly. With Kubiri's help she climbed into the cot. <br /><br />"Don't ever make me do that again," she told Kubiri woozily. As they moved her back inside, she drifted off to sleep.<br /><br />As she slept, she had another version of the dream. A great metallic reached out and pulled her from her surroundings into a bright sunny field. She looked around and saw the Vine God.<br /><br />"Hello," she said.<br /><br />"Katja Ilkaiomenen," he said. "Your mind is more clear, but you are not quite ready for me." As he spoke he became a burning fire, then the whole scene shifted, and where the Vine God had been, the Weeping Woman stood.<br /><br />"Who are you?"<br /><br />"You are almost ready," the Weeping Woman said. "But you are not ready." She became a fountain of water, which then flooded everything. But almost as soon as it had, it receded, and she was back in the sunny field with the Vine God.<br /><br />Katja looked around her, deep in thought. Then she said, "You are a Tanaver."<br /><br />The Vine God smiled. "I am being what I am," he said. "But 'Tanaver' is a name that some call it." Fire, then Weeping Woman.<br /><br />"And you are a Tanaver, as well?" asked Katja.<br /><br />"Katja Ilkaiomenen," she said, "I have already told you." Water, then Vine God.<br /><br />"You are all the same Tanaver?"<br /><br />"You are not ready to understand. But you may say that I am one Tanaver, if you wish to say it, and you would not be wholly wrong." Fire, then Weeping Woman.<br /><br />"What would be the right way to say it?"<br /><br />"It is not saying but being that is knowing," said the Weeping Woman. "Yet sometimes words are not wholly wrong." Water, then Vine God.<br /><br />Katja felt tired, but she said, "I have a great many questions."<br /><br />"One good question puts to flight every answer," said the Vine God. "Thus one may grow more wise, by undoing all answers. But even so, who will be so foolish as to cast aside answers if they are not yet wise enough to understand the lack of them? You are not yet ready." Fire, then Weeping Woman.<br /><br />"When will I be ready?" asked Katja.<br /><br />"When your speech is not so confined by words, and when your mind is both waking and dreaming whether you are awake or dreaming," said the Weeping Woman. Then the water flooded everything. Instead of feeling like she was drowning, however, it felt calm and quiet, like being suspended in darkness. She could breathe in and out easily. Her mind drifted on to other things.<br /><br />When she woke, she felt a bit groggy; her sinuses were not acting quite right. She sat up and looked around. Sunaram and Kubiri were on the other end of the room, sitting cross-legged and facing each other on something like a divan, talking animatedly about simulation variance in unstable societies, or something that sounded like that. Katja went to the sideboard for a few crackers and joined them.<br /><br />"How are you feeling?" Sunaram asked as she walked up.<br /><br />"A little sick," she said, "but not very bad. How long was I asleep?"<br /><br />"A very long time," said Kubiri; "much longer than you usually do."<br /><br />Sunaram pulled open her tablet and tapped it a few times. She then took the stylus and waved it in Katja's direction, watching her tablet the whole time. "It looks like it might be taking," she said. "I am not deeply familiar with this kind of technology, or Sylven physiology, but your body seems to be accommodating it." She nodded at Katja then looked at Kubiri, who opened his tablet.<br /><br />"Tell me if you understand the following sentence," he said. And then a whole stream of unfamiliar sounds came out of his mouth. They were not Samar words, and they were not very much like Sylven words. <br /><br />"I have no idea," said Katja. "Did it not work?"<br /><br />"It doesn't work like that; full languages cannot be inserted into your brain, because that would require completely restructuring it, and, as each brain is self-developing, it would have to be in a way consistent with the particular structure of your particular brain. What the Zezai have done is to give your brain something to interact with. But the two systems have to learn to communicate with each other, or, in other words, your brain has the integrate the Zezai system in its own way."<br /><br />"She probably needs some longer passages at first," said Sunaram.<br /><br />Kubiri looked at Katja. "If you feel that you could stand to be gibbered at in another language for a while, we could certainly do that."<br /><br />"Why not," said Katja. Kubiri gestured at a chair nearby, and she sat in it. The back was too short, but otherwise it was very comfortable.<br /><br />Kubiri tapped his tablet a few times and then began. It was a vigorous language, less soft than Sylven, with more and harsher consonants, and yet at the same time it was less crisp, seeming to drawl a bit. It would not be as good as Sylven for singing, but it would make for forceful oratory. The syllables went past like a rolling river, full of currents and alliterative rapids that occasionally became crashing cataracts of consonants. She closed her eyes and began drowsing off. The colors behind her eyes shifted and swirled, becoming not-quite-images that shifted too quickly to grasp. Suddenly she started awake.<br /><br />"Wait," she said, 'did you just say that the snake was kneaded into the dough?"<br /><br />Kubiri regarded her with surprise and then began tapping his tablet. "I only have the phonetics here, but I should be able to call up at least an approximate translation." He read for a moment and then said, "Yes, that is exactly what I said."<br /><br />"Then something is working," she said.<br /><br />"Then we are finished here," said Sunaram.<br /><br />"Tell me," said Katja, "is there anywhere here where I can shower?"<br /><br />"No," said Sunaram. "But we do have a pool for bathing."<br /><br />"That would be amazing."<br /><br />Kubiri thrust out his lips in the Samar smile. "Then I suppose we are not quite finished here." <br /><br />[1538]Brandonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06698839146562734910noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1056706052717983284.post-40299603024014378262012-12-01T00:38:00.001-06:002012-12-01T00:53:56.672-06:001.11 Pavilion (I)It was a jarring experience. The first two features of the experience, heat and light, came as shock. It was extraordinarily warm, like standing in front of an oven. And the light was all wrong. The color of the world was orange-red, somewhat burned in tone, heavy and thick and dull; it was an active orange-red, not merely laying on the surface things but leaping out everywhere into the air. <i>Red fierceness</i>. It tired the eyes.<br /><br />They stood in what seemed like a large circular temple with large pillars, standing upon a vast expanse of sand. It looked like it was open air, but every so often a cloud of dust stirred up by the wind would blow inward and be stopped by what seemed like a shimmer in the air. The Pavilion itself seemed to be made of massive blocks of sandstone, with swirling patterns of red, yellow, and orange, although perhaps some of the color was due to the harsh light. But it was perhaps not sandstone at all, for as Kubiri and Katja walked across the platform, the wall of the central portion of the Pavilion rippled. The rippling was not quite like water; but if you imagine a much more viscous substance into which a stone has been dropped, leading to small waves moving slowly outward, it was like that. It made the whole building seem to be a living thing.<br /><br />They walked around. The Pavilion seemed to be deserted, and there was nothing there to indicate that anyone had ever been there at all.<br /><br />"Didn't you say there was supposed to be someone to meet us?" Katja asked.<br /><br />"Yes," said Kubiri. "Perhaps they are out for the moment."<br /><br />Almost as if in answer, the wall immediately behind him began to ripple, first gently, then violently, and then to pull apart completely, like wet paper. But the tear was more regular than you would get with wet paper, and it soon formed a pointed arch. Out of the opening stepped a Samar.<br /><br />This Samar, green-eyed, was slightly tawny in color with a saffron-colored caftan, and a three-peaked hat. Unlike every other Samar Katja had seen, this one's hat was tilted straight back on the head, rather than to the side. Like all Samar, she had a closed tablet strapped to her wrist.<br /><br />"Greetings," the Samar said, then gave the typical unpronounceable Samar name, followed by, "but I am called Sunaram. I am Samar Ambassador to the Zezai." The voice was not as resonant and rich as the voices of the Samar Katja had met before. It was thinner, but still had a melodious quality to it.<br /><br />"Greetings, Sunaram," said Kubiri. Then he introduced himself with his name and his short-name, and then gestured at Katja. "This is Katja Ilkaiomenen, who is called Katja." He turned to Katja. "Sunaram is one of our greatest diplomatic minds. She is perhaps the foremost expert in practical xenosociology in all the universes."<br /><br />"You are too kind," said Sunaram.<br /><br />"Not at all," said Kubiri. "I have closely studied your work on social negotiation among the species of Involescence. It is some of the greatest work of our day. And your modal decision algebra for incommensurable utilities has saved me from many a potential mistake in complicated negotiations."<br /><br />Sunaram bowed, clearly delighted. "It is heartening to know that someone has found it useful," she said. "One often wonders...." she stopped a moment, looking thoughtful and began to hum a moment. Then she said, with barely suppressed excitement. "You are the Kubiri who presented on the use of generalized error statistics in simulation epistemology for the Diplomatic Logic Society!"<br /><br />Now it was Kubiri's turn to bow. "A youthful work, I am afraid," he said, "and insignificant compared to some of the advances that have been made recently by Nakiri of the High Council and others."<br /><br />"Do not understate the significance of that presentation!" Sunaram protested. "Without it I could not have done much of my work with Involescence!"<br /><br />Kubiri opened his mouth to say something, but then suddenly checked himself and gestured at Katja. "I fear we will be boring our colleague here with shop-talk."<br /><br />"Of course," said Sunaram. "Many apologies! The two of you should come inside."<br /><br />This they did, and the wall closed almost like a zipper behind them. The light inside was much less harsh, and much more like the sunlight of Sylvenia, and while it was not what Katja would have ordinarily considered cool, it was much less warm than outside.<br /><br />"What is this building made of?" asked Katja.<br /><br />"I believe it is made of nanites in some kind of colloidal solution. They are capable of forming dense sheets in the walls, but are also capable of concerted movement if given the proper commands. If you ever want to take a walk outside, just press that button there. But," she said, waving a finger at Katja and Kubiri, "do not ever leave the Pavilion itself. The atmosphere on this planet will begin liquefying your lungs within minutes."<br /><br />They descended some stairs to a very large room with furniture and equipment scattered throughout. There was a sideboard with what looked like crackers and fruits. There was also a pitcher of water.<br /><br />Sunaram gestured at it. "I am afraid I had only general information about Sylven physiology to help me in picking out what might be good, but I hope something of this is acceptable. I preferred to err on the safe side, so I fear it might be a little bland."<br /><br />Katja poured herself a cup of water and spread a red paste on a cracker. It was indeed bland, but there was a slight salty-sweetness that went well with the water. "So," she said, "since I will be going across the universes into unknown territory, what will I have to do to prepare?"<br /><br />"You are truly willing to commit?" Kubiri asked seriously.<br /><br />"I have thought about it," said Katja. "And I would be lying if I were to say that I had not seriously considered going home. But then I always think about what that might say about the Syylven. We are a quiet people, but we are not afraid of hard tasks. And I do not think I could be a proper Sylven if I were to run away from this. Regardless of what happens, I must represent my people as best I can, and show that we can show ourselves worthy of a place in the Alliance."<br /><br />"If you are certain," said Sunaram, "the procedure is quite simple. You will be inoculated against certain illnesses. The Zezai, who are preparing the inoculation, will need a blood sample for that. Also, we do not have time to teach you the langauge you will need to know, so the Zezai are also preparing translation nanites, which will directly interact with your brain to translate the language."<br /><br />"Is that safe?"<br /><br />"Oh, yes," said Sunaram. "It is far inferior to the real thing, however, because it only provides a general background in the language. When you actually get there, it will be important to keep reminding yourself that the translation does not take into account subtle dialectal differences and often has to be approximate. The translation nanites will also defend your brain against direct tampering; the Zezai will need a brain scan to give them a reference point."<br /><br />Katja did not like the sound of that, but she agreed to both. The blood sample and brain scan were both taken quite easily, with far less fuss than they would have taken in a Sylven medical clinic, and Sunaram went to deliver them to the Zezai.<br /><br />"Will the procedure be difficult?" Katja asked while she was gone.<br /><br />"I have never seen it done," said Kubiri. "I wish I could guarantee that it would be pleasant, but the Zezai are a swarm species rather than samaroids; one never knows what to expect. We would do it all with Samar technology, but for this you really need the best and highest quality, and with nanotechnology that means the Zezai. I don't think it will be difficult; but there might be some disorientation and adjustment required."<br /><br />This, of course, only made Katja feel nervous. <br /><br />Sunaram returned. "I have given the Zezai the sample and the scan. It will probably be a few hours before we get any response. One of the difficulties with being ambassador to a civilization like the Zezai is that even simple conversations can take hours." She turned to Katja. "As for the rest, there is not much else. After the inoculation there will be some briefing on the people you are being sent to, and the kinds of things you will need to negotiate, but you will have considerable discretion, as long as you conform to Samar diplomatic policy."<br /><br />"What is Samar diplomatic policy?"<br /><br />"It is very simple," said Kubiri. "All people have some inkling of beauty, but it is difficult to get a firm grasp on it. Thus we are struck by it in this or that form while beauty itself eludes our comprehension. Progress in civilized life consists of that social and mental discipline by which one comes to discern the beautiful in everything, and thence to discern its underlying pattern. From knowledge of the beautiful in virutous life and in just exchanges within society, a people may proceed from knowledge of the beautiful in skill, in virtue, and in knowledge itself. Then the coherent and integral harmony of these things may become manifest by being brought under one principle, which is beauty itself. All peoples without exception are to be encouraged in this ascent to beauty; none are to be discouraged from it. All actions and negotiations should tend to this, and should themselves be consistent with one's own ascent, regardless of what they may be. Everything else is just minor details."<br /><br />"The perpetual Samar pursuit of beauty," said Katja.<br /><br />"Always and ever," said Sunaram. "Shall we go up?"<br /><br />[1661]Brandonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06698839146562734910noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1056706052717983284.post-84511804340467666852012-12-01T00:35:00.000-06:002012-12-01T00:53:32.681-06:001.10 Samar in the Field (II)They waited for their time, and then moved into position, and then were in a different universe. One might think that it would be momentous thing, moving from universe to universe; one might think that there would be some grand experience, or, failing that, at least some little jerk or twitch to mark the moment. But there was nothing like that. The sky did grow momentarily dark, the stars fading out to be replaced by new ones; but it was swift and subtle. When you do not look at them from some familiar place, when you watch only the stars in the distance, one universe looks almost exactly like another. <br /><br />More time passed. From the new Cluster Hub they had to transfer again to get to the right galaxy, and then transfer again to get to the right system. Katja was tired of the same walls, the same benches; she slept more and, when awake she often paced. Conversation lulled. Kubiri was always ready to talk if she wanted to, but she was increasingly disinclined. She enjoyed the conversations when she did, but she was just restless. She felt caged. She thought at times of the sea. Of her routine walk from home to university. Of Darre's farm. Of the Shrine of the Tepi. She thought of festivals she had attended. She thought of festivals she was missing. She became frustrated when she realized that she was losing track of time. For that matter, when you travel that many Portals, does time really mean much. Once when she slept she dreamed that she had come back from her long adventure and discovered that no time had passed. Once she dreamed that she returned and a thousand years had passed.<br /><br />When she had awakened the second time, Kubiri sat beside her and said, "I have been briefed on your mission. What do you know of the Tanaver?"<br /><br />Katja thought. "Nothing much, I suppose. They founded the Alliance, they speak through the Oracles, they make the Portal system possible. Beyond that, they are a big mystery."<br /><br />He grinned a big, four-cornered Samar grin. "You are closer than you know. 'Tanaver' is a very simplified form of a a word in Samartana dialect that means 'Vast Mystery'. Here in Universe One there is a system called the Tanaver system. The Chaktai capital is on the second planet in the system, and the third planet is the planet Tanaver, and it is technically the capital of the entire Alliacne. But it is not the Tanaver homeworld. There is no Tanaver homeworld. The Tanaver were not born in any universe but, for lack of a better way of saying it, in the spaces between the universes. They are collectors of civilizations; they like gathering distinctive ones together into harmonious patterns. They are caretakers and curators for universes."<br /><br />"Tenders of the apple tree."<br /><br />"The apple tree?" asked Kubiri, somewhat startled.<br /><br />"We Syylven have a story about a great apple tree:<br /><br />
<i>From seed came fruit.<br />The blooms grew full, each fruit a great world,<br />rich with every soul's habitation.</i><br />
<br />The tree of worlds. Sorry, it's just a metaphor, but it came to mind when you talked about caretakers for universes."<br /><br />"Who has no metaphors has few thoughts," said Kubiri. "One needs metaphors in order to speak of things like the Tanaver, and it is a good one. Yes, they are gardeners tending the apple tree, perhaps better an entire orchard full of apple trees, loaded down with worlds, in order to make the most beautiful apples. Sometimes they splice boughs from elsewhere onto their favorite trees. Among all the civilizations in the universes, some, like the Samar, are home-grown. Others, like the Ylfae, if they are right, or like the Chaktai seem to be, are spliced in from elsewhere.<br /><br />"Recently the Tanaver have been worrying about something they have been finding in other universes. A blight, so to speak, in which the variety of the universes is being stripped away and replaced with ugly repetition. Complex universal harmonies are being replaced by simplistic and monotonous noise. Were it just an occasional thing, they would no doubt regard it just as part of the universal wilderness, but it is systematic, it is thorough, and it is spreading. It is, in short, a deliberate and artificial imposition on the universes. The Tanaver had discovered people like themselves, not directly but manifested clearly enough in their effects. What they had discovered disturbed them -- and it should go without saying that they are not easily disturbed. They notified the governing bodies of the Four Core Protectorates, who have been pursuing their own investigation; and they began to set up defenses to protect the Alliance from the blight. And they have searched for anything else they could find about these others.<br /><br />"Like the Tanaver, they usually involve themselves only indirectly, working primarily through protectorates, thousands and perhaps millions of them. Unlike the Tanaver, however, they aid their associates in attacking and conquering other societies, on a massive scale. These transplanted civilizations spread rapidly, choking out and subverting native civilizations. They have done this to dozens of universes, and are continually reaching out for more. At present they pose no direct threat to the Alliance itself, but if they continue to spread we will soon be surrounded, so to speak. All accessible universes will be dominated by them. Further, despite our tendency to talk of the Seven Universes, the Alliance strictly speaking extends past the boundaries of the Seven, just as the territory of a Protectorate extends beyond its habitable planets to its uninhabited systems and isolated outposts. There are a great many universes involved, and a great many outpost Protectorates that are more vulnerable than any Protectorates within the Seven.<br /><br />"The Tanaver insist that something must be done before their direct intervention is required, before the blight reaches the orchard, so to speak. It is unclear whether these others are as powerful as the Tanaver -- the Tanaver think not, but they have no evidence for that beyond the monotony of what these others are producing -- but they are broadly of the same kind, and war between beings like the Tanaver would be unimaginably destructive. Entire universes would be in danger. While the Tanaver would likely survive it, they could not guarantee at present that the rest of the Alliance would. To this end they have proposed to the governing bodies of the Core Protectorates that a buffer system be put into place. One part of this buffer system consists of assistance to certain societies in fending off the invaders and, where appropriate, offers of Alliance membership. Watchtowers on the outlying hills, so to speak. The Core Protectorates have agreed. We therefore need ambassadors to represent the Alliance to these societies."<br /><br />"And this is where I come in."<br /><br />"Truly. You are being asked to be Envoy of the Tanaver to a society that the Tanaver judge would be a great loss to the universes if it should fall."<br /><br />"But I have no experience as an ambassador."<br /><br />"You had no experience as an Administrator of a space station, either. The Tanaver take few chances; you were thrown into a new and unfamiliar situation to see what you would do, and the Tanaver found nothing in your behavior to worry them. You have received the confirmation of both the Samar and the Chaka representatives on the scene. And, what seems to have impressed the Tanaver just as much, you have been willing to journey to an entirely different universe simply in order to hear the offer. The Tanaver think you will make a fine Envoy. I agree." He pursed his lips and the edges of his eyes crinkled. "The only thing left for your eligibility is acceptance of the position."<br /><br />Katja sighed and shook her head. "It seems like the world keeps getting bigger and bigger."<br /><br />"It always does," said Kubiri. Then: "We have some time, if you need to think about it. We will be making a stop at a Zezai world in order to prepare you for your mission: vaccinations and the like. Up to that point you are free to turn down the offer and return home with the thanks of the Tanaver and the Samar High Council."<br /><br />"What would happen if I turned it down? In terms of the Alliance and the plan, that is?"<br /><br />He spread his hands. "The Tanaver do not make fragile plans. Another would have to be found, and could be found, even if there were none as good. I do not know the process for doing that. I do not even know how you were chosen, except that it was deemed that a Sylven would be the optimal choice, since the Syylven are physiologically similar to the species in question, and that the Tanaver chose you as the most acceptable Sylven."<br /><br />"What would you advise?"<br /><br />Kubiri looked grave and adjusted his fedora. "On a matter such as this, advice will always fall short. There is no precedent for this, nothing suitable for casuistic analysis, an insufficient amount of information for reliable simulation. Decisions like this can only be made by good sense and good taste, in pursuit of truth and of beauty. You've shown yourself to have some of both. But I would point two things out. The first is that you would not have been asked if there were not excellent reason for it. And the second is that you should not accept unless you are genuinely willing. This is a dangerous thing that is being asked of you." <br /><br />He was thoughtful for a moment, then said, "There is a third thing to be said. No matter what roads we walk, the beautiful life cannot be taken from us, only given up. Hard as the choice may be, in a sense it does not differ from any other. If you go home, that is a good choice, if only you go home to live a beautiful life. If you take on this mission, that is a good choice, if you take on this mission and live a beautiful life."<br /><br />It was not long afterward that they docked at a space station. They then took an elevator down, which Katja found most remarkable. Her best guess was that it was something like a laser ablation system, which allowed the compartment to detach from the station and then descend at a controlled speed into the atmosphere. There was no window to a compartment, but when Katja asked if there was any way to see out, Kubiri was able to bring up some kind of holographic display, which showed an ugly red-yellow planet and a little dot showing where the compartment was. It hardly seemed to be moving, but numbers showed current speed of descent, which was then plotted on a graph.<br /><br />It took quite some time to descend, although less than she would have expected. The ride was quite smooth. As the elevator settled into ground position, Kubiri said, "One important thing. This is not a samaroid world. The atmosphere of this planet is poisonous to almost any samaroids; a Samar would die in a matter of minutes and a Sylven almost instantly. The Pavilion itself is safe, but you must stay within Pavilion bounds at all times."<br /><br />The door opened and they stepped out.<br /><br />[1891]Brandonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06698839146562734910noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1056706052717983284.post-42650269515273365752012-12-01T00:27:00.004-06:002012-12-01T00:52:49.184-06:001.10 Samar in the Field (I)They made their way to a large suite that the Samar had reserved. Given Kubiri's low-key approach to everything she was somewhat surprised at how opulent it was; it would have shamed the finest hotels on Metsenia. They had hardly had time to look around when they were met by their two Samar dining companions. Kubiri introduced himself (with his full name, which still sounded quite as fantastic as it had the first time she had heard it) and Katja.<br /><br />The first of the new Samar was light-gray in color, almost powdery white. He looked quite old. He wore a caftan like Kubiri's, but of vivid orange and gold. It would have drawn the eye, except that he had on his head a truly remarkable hat. It was a great pluming thing, vividly purple, like a large violet mushroom, almost a third as tall as he was. It was decorated with gaudy feathers of white and purple. What was most fascinating about it, however, was the fact that it was tipped precariously to the side and constantly looked on the verge of falling off, when it wasn't on the verge of sweeping things off the walls or shelves.<br /><br />"It is a delight to meet you both," he said gravely in a deep and mellifluous voice. "My name is--" Here Katja braced herself for a long and unrepeatable Samar name, but she was not prepared for what was actually given. He opened his mouth and gave what started out as a deep-voiced shout, then soared up screaming into a high register, then rose up and down the scale. Having given this startling performance, he swept grandly past both Kubiri and Katja into the dining room part of the suite.<br /><br />"Is that his real name?" Katja asked.<br /><br />"It is," said Kubiri, "but he is still playing a joke on you. Nobody uses full tonal pronunciation outside of poetry recitations."<br /><br />"He does this on occasion," said the other Samar. "His short-name is Pagali, and it will be fine if you call him that."<br /><br />The second Samar had dark brown fur, except for a few lighter patches, and he looked much younger than Pagali. His caftan was cream-colored, very similar, in fact, to the color of Katja's shirt. His hat was opposite to Pagali's in almost every way: it was small, with a small brim, and fit the head closely, although it, too, was tipped to the side. He gave his name, which started out as something like Zuvansanapuri--, and his short name, which was Ansani. Then they all joined Pagali at the table. The robotic steward, a more advanced and less boxy model than the one on the Ylfae ship, began putting appetizers in front of them.<br /><br />The two Samar were apparently engineers. They had been on a tour of little-visited worlds, some of them even without Portals and Oracles, none of whom had full spacefaring ability, and some of whom had no spacefaring ability at all.<br /><br />"Are there really any such worlds?" asked Katja in surprise.<br /><br />"There are a great many, actually," Ansani said. "Especially in this Universe. They are part of the Alliance in some sense; despite not having an Oracle, they know of the Tanaver, and have at least some vague notion of the Alliance, to which they usually aspire."<br /><br />"They would generally be worlds that need help before they can really take a place in the Alliance, but who for various reasons cannot simply be made Wards of Protectorates like the Ylfae," Kubiri said to Katja.<br /><br />"The Ylfae!" snorted Pagali. "Making a society a Ward of the Ylfae is a good way to ruin them irrecoverably."<br /><br />"Katja's people are Wards of the Ylfae," Kubiri said.<br /><br />"The Ylfae are not as bad as Pagali suggests," Ansani said. "Their approach just lacks...nuances."<br /><br />"Nuances of intelligence," said Pagali unrepentantly. "I have argued for years that we need to assign someone permanently to the Ylfae simply to make sure they don't ruin everything everywhere."<br /><br />"It is true," said Kubiri reflectively, "that they sometimes fail to approach things sensibly. One of my earliest Consultations related to the Ylfae was helping to restore a small Ward. There was no intentional failure, and they intended only to help. But if you are a vast Protectorate with Guardianship responsibilities, you must make considerable effort to guarantee that your assistance is always cooperative, not in competition with the Ward. A society with fewer resources in direct competition with a society possessing more resources is in danger of being poisoned by the relationship as they are repeatedly outcompeted in competitions they cannot avoid. Use of intoxicants, suicide, violence, self-destructive behavior, can all begin to spread. The Ylfae tend not to be careful enough on this point. Tending civilizations is an artform they have not yet developed. They are better than they used to be."<br /><br />"How did you solve the problem?" Ansani asked.<br /><br />"I negotiated half a dozen economic treaties with other Protectorates, including the Ops, which was the one that turned the tide. Interstellar trade is never high-volume, but it can provide options that would not otherwise exist."<br /><br />Another course was laid out by the steward. Ansani asked about Katja's story, and she summarized the events of the past few days. (Days! she thought. Only days!)<br /><br />"What interests me especially," said Pagali, "is this building of ships by the Ylfae. That would be a fleet in the millions. And these are not minor ships, either."<br /><br />"It fits with the way things have been moving for some time, though," said Ansani. Then, to Katja: "Protectorates have basic civil defense responsibilities. In practice these are generally quite minor: the occasional case of piracy, a large-scale emergency here and there. But it has become clear over a very long period of time that the Tanaver are increasingly giving emphasis to these responsibilities; the Oracles are making suggestions to improve anti-piracy systems and emergency preparedness on an extensive scale, and often to specifications well beyond anything that would ordinarily be required."<br /><br />"It all points in one direction," said Pangali.<br /><br />"What direction is that?" Katja asked.<br /><br />"That the Tanaver are preparing the Alliance for war."<br /><br />Katja looked blankly at him, then with equal blankness at the others. "War with whom?"<br /><br />"That," Ansani said gravely, "is the right question." He looked thoughtful and began to hum. <br /><br />Pagali and Kubiri both began to hum as well. Each hummed a different note, so together the three hummed something like a chord. Katja had any number of other questions, but it felt like it would be interrupting to ask them while they were all humming in deep thought. She wondered what it would be like to be in a room with many Samar in deep thought; a symphonic hum.<br /><br />After a while the humming faded out, and Kubiri said, "In any case, the essential task remains the same."<br /><br />Pagali nodded and said, "Through seasons without cease, rooting all transformation, beginning all emergence, the principle of receiving and giving."<br /><br />Both Ansani and Kubiri nodded at this cryptic statement, so Katja supposed it was a quotation or allusion cognizable to the Samar. The discussion turned to other things, many of them above Katja's head, although she did enjoy Pagali's and Ansani's tales of developing tool cultures for societies with limited manual dexterity, and some of the other stories were quite funny, particularly when told by very expressive Samar faces. Much of it she would not remember later, but she always remembered one particular comment, which Ansani made in the course of talking about a particularly difficult Consultation on a system of dams.<br /><br />"It was a new type of system for them, and they were very worried about it. They kept asking if it would really work, and kept raising objections, which we continually answered; but no matter how much we explained the system or assured them it would work, they kept coming back and asking if it would really work. Finally Pagali said, 'If it does not, I will take great enjoyment in mocking you for your incompetence, since that is the only way it could possibly fail.' Not diplomatic or tactful, but they stopped asking us. Sometimes the best diplomacy is cold and hard."<br /><br />After the end of dinner, Katja napped -- she felt as if she were always sleeping, but the Samar, being sleepless and (it often seemed) untiring, never stopped, and she could not keep up with that. So she relaxed back in a chair and let them discuss the logistics of satellite deployment in asteroid-heavy regions and transactional densities for economic systems in spiral galaxies and all the other incomprehensible things toward which conversation among Samar naturally seemed to tend.<br /><br />At the end of the evening (it was not actually 'evening' in any ordinary sense of the term, but it was impossible not to think of it as a long dinner party some holiday evening) Ansani and Pagali had to return to their ship to prepare for their Portal trip. As they stood saying their last goodbyes, Pagali held out his palms toward Kubiri and Katja and said:<br /><br />"Kubiri and Katja, the Universes are vast, and it is likely we will never meet again. But if you should ever be on the Samar world of Svasa, and are able to travel to the Emerald Forest-lands to the north of the Undying Hills, visit if you can the village of Chitya-amara,in the northern part of the Forest, and ask for me, Pagali. And if I am there, I will take you to the High Forest Peak, from which you can see the whole of the Forest curving down below you, out to the shimmering Lake of Infinite Species of Fish. We will picnic on the mountain as the butterflies dance in the air, and we will speak of beautiful things."<br /><br />Then Ansani held out his palms in the same way and said:<br /><br />"Kubiri and Katja! The Universes are vast, and it is likely that we will never meet again. But if you should ever be on the Samar world of Gotisa, and are able to visit the western shores of the Sea of Blue-green Glass, stop at the village of Anita-ma-satya; it is easy to find, because it is known for its basaltic obelisk dedicated to Anjanam the Wise, marking the spot where she first worked out the mathematics of electromagnetic propagation. Ask for me, Ansani, and if I am there, I will take you out in a boat upon the Bay of Ordered Tranquillity. We will drink tea as we watch the sun set and the phosphorescent fish splash in the sea, and we will speak of beautiful things."<br /><br />Then Kubiri also held out his palms toward Ansani and Pagali. He said:<br /><br />"Pagali and Ansani, the Universes are vast, and it is likely that we will never meet again. But if you should ever be near the sixteenth moon of the second gas-giant planet of the Samar system of Nibiru, visit the domes there if you can. Ask for Kubiri, the son of Narsidi and Harsanam. If I am there, we will visit the Observatio Dome and look up at the vast multi-colored rings as the planet rises in the sky. There is a chorus that sings at that time, and we will quietly listen to them beneath the never-ending stars. And when they are done, we will speak of beautiful things."<br /><br />Then Pagali and Ansani were gone, and Katja and Kubiri returned to their ship to wait their own Portal trip.<br /><br />[1919]Brandonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06698839146562734910noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1056706052717983284.post-17096502159297793172012-11-26T14:33:00.000-06:002012-12-01T00:52:24.051-06:001.9 Transitions (II)The business of transition went quite smoothly. Katja sent the survey reports to the Taladac ship and they took their leave. She sent the same information via Portal to Sylvenia (with Kubiri's help), to help with trade negotiations. She and Kubiri catalogued faults, failures, malfunctions, ruptures, leaks, computer errors and glitches, parts in need of replacement. It was a long list. It was also tedious work, but after recent events that was almost a relief.<br /><br />It was not until the new ship from Sylvenia had actually docked and she was standing waiting to greet her successor that she realized with something of a shock that it had slipped her mind entirely to send a message asking them to bring a few changes of clothes and other supplies for herself. At that point she decided she would decline the offer and would just return home. It was one thing to be stuck in the same clothes for a few days, and another thing entirely to continue as she had been for an indefinite period of time. If she left the station, off to who-knows-where, who could say when she would next have a chance to get a fresh set of clothes?<br /><br />It was set, then. When her successor came out with his team, however, and he turned out to be none other than Helvi Hokomenen, she knew, with a sinking feeling, that she would accept Kubiri's offer, after all. If she went home, to Sola and Darre and all the others, she would always be restless. She had been getting restless before she came; if she went home now, it would feel like she had stopped her story arbitrarily instead of letting it close itself out, in a natural way. She hoped the natural end of the story would be the Island again, but everything seemed to point her out and out, away from home. She had already gone halfway across the galaxy; why not go a bit further? Why not follow the thread where it led?<br /><br />She showed Helvi and his team around the station. She managed to beg a few supplies from them -- a bag, a small box of tooth-powder and a tooth-powder applicator, and a bath-whisk -- and, while it was not much, it made her feel far more cheerful than she had been. When you have almost nothing, tooth-powder is a splendid thing to gain. There is a passage in the <i>Sylevid</i> in which the son of Sylve sets off for a journey with various strange odds and ends from home, like a broom and some string. She felt very much like the Sylevid.<br /><br />"All I need is a broom, a feather, and a bit of string, and I would be set for any adventure," she said to herself, and laughed.<br /><br />And thus it was that she found herself again on the ship she had come in, chatting with Kubiri.<br /><br />"So," she said, "when will I learn what this special mission is supposed to be?"<br /><br />"As soon as I learn myself, you will know," he replied. "All I know at present is that we have to go to Universe One. Once we are there I should be given additional information for briefing you."<br /><br />"Leaving the entire universe? Another novelty for me. What is involved in that?"<br /><br />"Nothing very different from what you already know. The local Portal is not an inter-universal Portal; we will have to go from there to the Primary Galactic Portal, and then from there to the Cluster Hub, and then that one will allow us to transfer to a Cluster Hub in Universe One, from which we will then certainly have to transfer again. In the Portal system travel within a galaxy, travel between galaxies within the local supercluster, travel between superclusters within or outside the universe are all kept separate, for a number of reasons. Local Portals are almost usually in inhabited systems, while inter-universal Portals like the Cluster Hubs are best placed in uninhabited systems. The whole trip will certainly take about five or six days, at minimum."<br /><br />"That seems rather involved."<br /><br />"Boredom is the primary hazard of space travel," said Kubiri. "Everything is vast distances from everything else, and linear travel is limited by the relation between energy and momentum; Portals cannot be placed just anywhere; and even Portal-independent ships generally have significant limits. Spending hours and hours aboard a ship is unavoidable."<br /><br />They talked for a long time. Kubiri spoke of many of the major Protectorates of the Alliance, names of which Katja had only just heard. The four Core Protectorates: Chaktai, Zezai, Limmer, and Samar; the Samar knew only fragments about the first three. Other significant Protectorates: the Ops, a civilization of three distinct samaroid species, spread throughout Universe Two and some of Universe Three; Involescence, a strange union of thousands of species, whose borders were unknown even to the Samar but who had vast monastery complexes taking up entire solar systems in Universes Two, Three, and Four; the Shagghia of Universe Four; other names she could not even have pronounced. He spoke, too, of the Myrian, not a Protectorate in the strict sense but recognized by the Alliance Charter; it was a vast system of machines that constructed Portals throughout the Universes. One grew up knowing in an abstract way the vastness of the Alliance, endless numbers of worlds bound together by Charter, by Oracle, by Portal. But the infinite detail was more difficult to appreciate if you had never experienced small portions of it, or talked with someone like Kubiri who had.<br /><br />Katja in turn talked about various aspects of Sylven culture. She was somewhat embarrassed about it, since it all seemed so mundane to her; but Kubiri seemed interested in it all. And, perhaps, her culture was as strange to him as talk of the Ops was to her.<br /><br />At one point, Katja asked Kubiri if he knew any games, and he tried to teach her a board game with an unpronounceable name -- something like Satyanankakrambachitali, except there were syllables in it that her voicebox could probably not have managed. It took several hours and by the end she had no better sense of the game than when she began. But she had known that she probably would not ever understand it when, trying to explain something that had happened five moves in, Kubiri had suggested that she not think of it as a game on a two-dimensional board, but as a game in four-dimensional space represented two-dimensionally by a projection onto the board. But it was not too bad; the conversation, at least, was interesting. They played a few Sylven games. Katja was embarrassed at the simplicity of some of them, and, indeed, Kubiri had only to play a game once, if even that, in order to win consistently from then on out. But he seemed to be intrigued by each one. The game he enjoyed most was a Sylven rummy game Katja put together with makeshift tiles.<br /><br />"It is a competitive negotiation game with partially veiled resources!" he said delightedly, and went on not only to win, but to win so resoundingly that Katja had never lost so badly. She usually thought of herself as a fairly decent player, but she had nothing on Kubiri.<br /><br />"I believe I will have to work up a discussion of this game for the Logic Society. It could easily be adapted for training."<br /><br />"I have heard you talk about Logic Societies before. What are they?"<br /><br />He considered the question a moment. "What is your most advanced form of educational institution?"<br /><br />"You mean things like universities? I work -- worked -- for the Ecological Institute at the University of Sylvenia."<br /><br />He opened his tablet and ran some kind of search. "Yes," he said after a moment, almost to himself. "Universities. I am aware of this kind of institution. Rigidly structured institution, modular curriculum, resource-intensive; effective, but due to its resource-dependence subject to cycles of development and collapse. Very good for species that have difficulty with sustained abstract thought." He closed the tablet. "A university is a good institution, but it would be utterly impracticable for the Samar. The resource drain we could easily absorb, but large portions of our most brilliant lights are scattered over the Universes of the Alliance. We need much more flexible institutions for education and research, which means we need highly developed correspondence networks. We are also more intensively eusocial than species like the Sylven; the rigidity of interaction in your universities would not suit us at all. So we have our Logic Societies. I am a member of two, one devoted primarily to economics and one primarily to diplomatic theory. We exchange memoirs and treatises, engage in extensive conversations and debates, design tutorials and primers for each other, cooperate on research projects. Swap stories." He pushed forward his lips in a Samar smile. "It is, in any case, the sort of thing we would have to rely upon, anyway. Performing our work for the Alliance, we are a civilization scattered through the heavens; the strain that puts on a people, the pressure towards deterioration and degeneration, is extraordinary. If we had only to consider ourselves, we would simply stay in our handful of systems in Universe Two and live quiet lives in pursuit of beauty. As it is, we need things like Logic Societies to counter the 'wear and tear', as you Syylven say, of Samar responsibilities under the Alliance Charter."<br /><br />So they talked and played games to while away the time. Katja slept and sleepless Kubiri did his Private Consultations when she slept. Out from the Lin Ohuen Portal, to the Primary Galactic Portal, then to the Cluster Hub. The Cluster Hub consisted of two Portals, one connecting to the local galactic network, the other connecting to other Cluster Hubs; it also had a large space station. All three revolved at considerable distance around a lone star, small and pale in the distance. They docked at the space station.<br /><br />"There is a market here," he said, checking his tablet. "We can get provisions, and now that I have an idea what kinds of things you prefer, meals should improve. Inter-universal transits are widely spaced, and our timing has not been excellent. However, it does give us plenty of time for something else, if you are interested. There are two other Samar currently waiting for their transit windows. It is Samar custom, when we upon come other Samar in the field, always to meet for a meal and conversation, if time permits. When you are scattered across universes, it is not a luxury but a necessity to seize any opportunity of interacting one can. Since you are a Tanaver Consultation, you are certainly invited."<br /><br />"Thank you," said Katja. "I would relish the opportunity to get off this ship, even for a short time."<br /><br />By this point she meant it very much.<br /><br />[1820]Brandonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06698839146562734910noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1056706052717983284.post-9414851098646162852012-11-26T14:31:00.002-06:002012-12-01T00:51:42.776-06:001.9 Transitions (I)The shaft, previously just cool, suddenly seemed terribly cold.<br /><br />Katja drew in a shaky breath. "Do you know what to do with it?"<br /><br />There was a pause, a cruel and awful pause, then: <b>I cannot see it very clearly, but it is not a sophisticated device. They would need something to trigger it, and a timer is unlikely. Kubiri suggests looking for an antenna.</b><br />
<br />She looked it over carefully, trying to recall anything she could from old classes on electronics. Some features she could identify, but it was not quite like any circuit she had ever seen. "I suppose that this S-shaped bar could be the antenna."<br /><br /><b>I concur</b>.<br />
<br />"It seems to be attached by two wires to the rest of it. I think that having two may be a redundancy. Do you think we can remove it without setting it off?"<br /><br />
<b>From what I can see, that seems probable; it is crude and they do not have seem to have anticipated that it would be discovered.</b><br /><br />She took a deep breath and reached out her hand. It was shaking violently. She drew it back and, taking a deep breath, put it out again as she began the <i>sanalassa</i> of Flame:<br /><br />
<i>Flame I know; before it was darkness,<br />cold and empty, fluid and swirling.<br />Then spark was struck, burst out from the cloud.<br />All things have within a subtle flame.<br />Flame joins with flame, threads interweaving<br />until it leaps out with whitest heat....</i><br /><br />She carefully undid the wires and found that she was still holding her breath. When nothing happened, she said, "Do you think it is disarmed?"<br /><br />
<b>No. But we may have bought time. Bring it out.</b><br /><br />Katja took a deep breath again and continued the <i>sanalassa</i> of Fire as she carefully grabbed the device and began pulling it with her as she backed down the shaft. It had been easy enough moving forward, but she worried that she would be too slow backward. And progress certainly was slower, although she made good time.<br /><br />
<i>Red fierceness, spark from Ohu, bright flame,<br />what cause have you to wreak havoc here?<br />They who wander dream of their own homes.<br />Why journey here? Where is your hearthstone?</i><br />
<br /><b>You must hurry.</b><br /><br />She increased her pace, and soon her legs were sticking out; she felt herself pulled out by powerful arms. Then Herri grabbed the device and, glancing at it astutely for a brief moment, turned and sped out of the room. Katja slid down to the floor and had to take another deep breath. Kubiri touched her shoulder and sat down beside her. He was looking at his tablet.<br /><br />"The Winbaric are away," he said, "and Herri should be disarming the bomb as we speak. I have gone over all the motion sensor logs, and it seems very likely that it was the only one. I have notified the Taladac delegation of the problem. I have also uploaded a report for the Samar High Council to the Portal."<br /><br />"How can you be so calm?"<br /><br />He adjusted the angle on his fedora. "I have a different physiology. And while I have never actually dealt with a real-life situation like this, training for the field involves extensive simulations of various piratical situations. Since piratical actions are a defined crime in the Alliance Charter, it sometimes falls to us to investigate issues relevant to them."<br /><br />She looked up at the ceiling. Like the walls it was pastel, but it was lightly speckled, like the shell of an egg.<br /><br />"What will happen to the Winbaric?" she asked after a moment.<br /><br />"The ones here will be hunted down by Herri. They cannot leave the system, because the Portal has now been set for limited communication only. By doing this they have committed a piratical action, and the Chaktai have full authority to enforce laws against piratical actions, both of the Charter itself and any local laws. Assuming they do not resist violently, they will be captured and turned over to the relevant authorities. Since they were an official delgation of the Winbaric, the Samar High Council will initiate a full inquiry to determine whether they were acting alone."<br /><br />"Would you be doing the investigation?"<br /><br />"No. It would be a conflict of interest. But such an investigation would in any case be merely a Samar Consultation; and I am currently involved in a Tanaver Consultation. Tanaver Consultations always take precedence."<br /><br />Katja nodded, but then stopped, considering. "I am your Tanaver Consultation, though. Surely you are nearly done with me? The negotiations are over. I can hardly imagine that the Taladac will give the station over to the Winbaric after this incident."<br /><br />"Nonetheless, it is never good to plan for the end of a Tanaver Consultation until it has actually ended."<br /><br />They sat quietly for a moment. Then Herri returned.<br /><br />
<b>It is disarmed. It was not difficult.</b> He seemed disappointed at the lack of difficulty.<br /><br />"It was intended to disperse a chemical poison slowly through the ventilation system."<br /><br />
<b>Yes</b>, Herri said indifferently. <b>Poorly chosen. It would not have killed me.</b><br /><br />"I would guess that they did not expect the Tanaver representative to be a Chaka."<br /><br />
<b>Poor foresight. And it would likely not have killed any Samar, either; any artificially supplemented immune system should be able to handle it.</b><br /><br />Kubiri considered this, humming. "I wonder if they knew that," he said finally. "Most people would not. It would be foolish to live a Samar alive as a witness; but it is foolish to kill a Samar as well. In either case it would be guaranteed that the crime would be discovered and punished. The Samar High Council would make it certain either way. It is baffling. I take it that you will be heading out now to hunt?"<br /><br />
<b>They are insignificant prey; they will not be difficult.</b> Herri looked down at her, his sly predatorial face sizing her up.<br /><br />
<b>How are you doing?</b> he asked.<br /><br />"Recovering," she said. "I am really not used to this kind of excitement."<br /><br />He looked at her with his usual expression of cool sarcastic amusement, then turned to look at Kubiri. They gazed at each other a long moment, then Kubiri said, "We are in agreement."<br /><br />Herri bowed his head, then turned to Katja. <b>I wish you well, little one</b>, he said. <b>And if all goes well, you and I will meet again beyond the Gates of Death.</b><br /><br />Katja's blood ran cold at the phrase. <i>Right roads may lead through the gates of death</i>. But Herri simply turned and sped out.<br /><br />Kubiri rose and looked down at her. "Are you ready for some news?"<br /><br />"Try me."<br /><br />"You are being replaced," he said. "The Tanaver have had the Samar designate a successor to you, and whoever it is should be arriving shortly."<br /><br />Katja sighed. "I am not surprised," she said. "This has been largely a disaster. Just a few days and practically everything has happened but the station exploding."<br /><br />"That it has," said Kubiri cheerfully. "But if you mean that it was a disaster because of you, then, if I may give some advice, you should not be so harsh with yourself. You were put into a difficult and baffling situation. Even I do not quite understand what has happened, and I certainly do not understand all of why it has happened. You are not being removed for any failure on your part. The Tanaver are instead giving you a choice. The one alternative is to return to Sylvenia, and take up your life again."<br /><br />"And what is the other?"<br /><br />"I have been empowered by the Tanaver, the Samar High Council, and the Council of Threefold Mothers to offer you a more challenging task, the completion of which would be of immeasurable benefit to the Alliance."<br /><br />Katja stared at him. "I don't understand."<br /><br />"Unfortunately, the task in question is of a kind whose nature is best not broadcast abroad. I do not even fully know it myself. The Tanaver apparently chose you to test you for precisely this task, without telling anyone."<br /><br />"It was a test."<br /><br />"Yes. I was not aware myself. I did begin to guess, however, when we discovered that the Tanaver negotiator would be a Chaka. They are not like samaroids; they are not a negotiating civilization at all. Males like Herri live to protect the Mothers at any cost, to obey the Mothers without hesitation, and to defend the Alliance against active enemies without and within. Negotiation is not a skill they ever have need to learn; their culture is not set up for it. And yet, here the Tanaver, who knew this better than any, had specifically chosen one for their negotiator. And this with all the other anomalies of the situation suggested that it was an artificial scenario."<br /><br />"And the bomb?" asked Katja, somewhat more loudly than she intended.<br /><br />"I don't <i>think</i> the Tanaver intended it," said the Samar. "I don't <i>think</i> they can anticipate to that degree of precision. And I honestly do not believe that they would put you in a situation you could not survive. But, again to be honest, who knows what the Tanaver know, or what purposes they might have? We can only speculate."<br /><br />Katja considered. "I have to tell you, Kubiri, I am not thrilled at the idea of 'more challenging than pulling bombs from ventilator shafts'."<br /><br />"Truly."<br /><br />"What would you advise me to do?"<br /><br />Kubiri looked more grave than usual and hummed for a moment. "It is clear that the easier path would be simpy to return home. You have performed your task here to the satisfaction of both Tanaver and Samar, and would receive an official expression of thanks from the Samar High Council. You have improved the situation of your people in their trade negotiations with the Ylfae. It is a good ending to a story."<br /><br />"But I would never know what the other path would have been."<br /><br />Kubiri spread his hands. "But that is the lot of all of us throughout our lives. Nonetheless, we can know this as well: however inscrutable they may be, neither the Tanaver nor the Samar High Council ever do anything without good reason. If you were approved for this task it is because you are the right person for it. Given the test, it would no doubt be difficult and dangerous; you may not even survive it. But you were selected for a reason."<br /><br />"<i>Right roads may lead through the gates of death</i>," murmured Katja.<br /><br />"Truly. But it is important that it be the right road, and it can only be so if you choose it for the right reason. It is not your task to go here and there as the Samar or the Tanaver dictate; you have your own destiny, and that is to live a beautiful life, fit for a Sylven. That is the only thing that matters."<br /><br />"Do I have to decide now?"<br /><br />"Not at all. We have minor business to finish with the Ylfae, and we must prepare the station to hand over to your successor. Only then will we definitely need to know your decision."<br /><br />[1880]Brandonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06698839146562734910noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1056706052717983284.post-87494633056072376622012-11-26T14:25:00.001-06:002012-12-01T01:03:01.254-06:001.8 The Thing That Can Explode (II)The investigation, such that it was, turned out to be somewhat disappointing. The winbaric had walked down to an empty room, stayed for some time, and then left. As a room it was not different from any other room in the station; it was in the main trunk of the station, and was just a small box with the usual pastel walls. Very puzzling.<br /><br />She then met up with Kubiri for lunch with the Taladac delegation. Their ship looked almost identical to the one in which she and Kubiri had arrived at the station, although the color scheme was slightly different. As on the charter, they were served by a robotic steward, a little machine with arms. Much of the food was very strangely spiced and not very palatable; Katja wondered whether Kubiri had perhaps tweaked the system aboard their own ship to make it render food more edible for Syylven. The conversation, which was, of course, in Simplified Samar, was also extraordinarily dull, in part because the Ylfae liked to give long speeches before every course, and extraordinarily irritating, in part because they continued to try to talk only to Kubiri. The two sides, dull and irritating, fused when they did so, because they continually sprinkled their conversation with elaborate compliments and perorations on the excellence of the Samar. It was so over the top that Katja wondered after a while what Kubiri might have said to them to make them so intent on flattery. Nonetheless, parts of the conversation were of some interest. According to the delegates, the entire Ylfae civilization was embarked on a massive set of construction projects in response to an Oracle of the Tanaver. The project consisted of vast ships capable of jumping from galaxy to galaxy without a Portal and of carrying tens of thousands of people and sustaining them indefinitely without outside supplies.<br /><br />"A strange request, and it is a difficult problem to make such large ships Portal-independent," said one of the delegates in his slow, over-precise Simplified Samar, "but, adding to this, some of the specifications are unusually difficult. We have had to make several major scientific advances simply in order to approximate them. The Tanaver were quite specific and precise about what was required. These ships need to be able to endure extreme conditions, even to the point of being able to withstand massive explosions."<br /><br />"We have speculated that they are supposed to be anti-piracy ships capable of withstanding any attack," said the second; "that is why they need to be Portal-independent and so strong."<br /><br />"Piracy is difficult to root out, because space is so vast that pirates can easily hide. Thus it would make sense to have a fleet of ships capable of long searches and enduring attack."<br /><br />"Have you thought of asking the Tanaver?" Katja asked.<br /><br />They did not deign to look at her, but, addressing themselves to Kubiri, they answered the question nonetheless. "They would not respond to such questions. But at the same time, one does not refuse a Tanaver request; and in the course of fulfilling it we have learned much."<br /><br />Every galaxy in the Ylfae Commonwealth was involved in the project. "Each one is trying to build a ship to the proper specifications before the others; there would be much prestige in being able to complete it to specification early. We were doing well, one of the best, despite not being a wholly Ylfae galaxy. And we are very close, we think. But we have recently stalled. We have begun to experience shortages, which have greatly increased the expense. We are in very short supply of many elements that are necessary to complete the systems; 31, 39, 41, 46, 79, 111, 118, and many others. Our systems are not very rich in many of these, some are necessarily synthetic, and everything has to be tested until we can get the proper specifications. In principle we could gather it all together, but the expense is already well in excess of what we hoped, and will only become more expensive."<br /><br />"It is interesting you should say that," Katja replied. "This system happens to be very rich in at least some of these elements. Perhaps at some point you could help the Syylven to build up a mining system for them." For the first time they were actually looking at her. "If you would give us a list of the elements in which you are interested, I can send you copies of the reports from the original Winbaric surveys. And the Sylven Commissioners are still in negotiation with some of your tribes over various trade treaties; I have no doubt that they would be interested in adding the question to those discussions."<br /><br />"We will certainly send you the list," said one of the delegates.<br /><br />The conversation passed to some light chit-chat, but Katja noticed that while they still primarily directed their attention to Kubiri, they now included her in the conversation. Kubiri, who was magnificently adept at directing the conversation where he wanted it to go, brought it to the subject of the Winbaric behavior. The Taladac agreed that the Winbaric were acting strangely.<br /><br />"But," said one of the Taladac, putting his fingers near his face in what was perhaps the Ylfae equivalent of a shrug, "they are Tura, and this is not unexpected with Tura. They are a selfish and self-centered tribe, always concerned more with their own feelings and opinions than with understanding the greater scheme of things. It is difficult to reason with them on the best of days."<br /><br />"And their sense of symbolism is defective, too," said the other. "Inconsistent and simplistic. They are erratic dreamers. They do not have discipline, but act only on impulse and their unruly passions."<br /><br />That was all they said about the Winbaric, because they immediately started branching off into all the faults of all the non-Taladac tribes of Ylfae (the excessive sensitivity of the Talvati, the practical uselessness of the Remoal, the arrogance of the Sima, and so forth) and the superiority of the Taladac to them all. This they attributed to the superiority of their progenitors, which then led immediately to an arcane discussion of the finer points of Ylfae sacred progonology and a vivacious argument between the two of them over whether it was better to trace the various relevant genealogies matrilineally or patrilineally. This was difficult to break into, but Kubiri managed to get himself and Katja out of the discussion and out of the ship before it had advanced too far.<br /><br />As they walked back to command control, Kubiri looked at Katja appraisingly. "I take it," he said, "that when the Taladac receive the reports, they will find that the system is indeed rich in some of the elements they mentioned."<br /><br />"Well," said Katja, somewhat embarrassed. "I had only seen the report for element 41, and it did say that there was an unusual quantity of it in the system. It seemed it was worth a try."<br /><br />"It was a reasonable move. At the very least it will raise the question for them whether they want the system developed by the Syylven, who will give good prices for trade concessions, or if they want to give it to the Winbaric, who seem unwilling to commit much to the system and are often antagonistic to the Taladac majority in this galaxy."<br /><br />"Half of diplomacy is showing that doing the right thing is more pleasant than it appears."<br /><br />Kubiri thrust out his lips in a Samar smile. "Truly. And we have confirmation that the Winbaric are not approaching this negotiation normally."<br /><br />Katja told him about the result of her investigation. "But I've been thinking," she said, "that perhaps there is more there than meets the eye. Perhaps there is a special compartment or--" she thought about the room a moment then said, "or the ventilation shaft."<br /><br />The Samar stopped and hummed. Then he said, "There are only three obvious reasons to put something in a ventilation shaft: to hide something, to spy on someone, or to harm someone. Perhaps there are others, but we cannot assume any of them until we have ruled out mischief. I will go find 'Herri' and meet you there."<br /><br />They split up and Katja returned to the small room. Sure enough, there was a ventilation shaft in the corner. The grate covering it seemed loose; she was easily able to remove it. It was low and broad, and since it was large enough for her to fit inside, she put her hand in and looked around. It was dark, but when she pushed in a bit, small lights lit along the edges, no doubt originally designed for maintenance. She wiggled even farther inside.<br /><br />She had once gone spelunking, and this was much like it, but with a smoother path and more shoulder-room. Before long she had managed to get quite far. It was quite cool, like Sylvenian spring, and she found it pleasantly refreshing. The air was blowing, very lightly, from behind her: the shaft was not an outflowing shaft but an inflowing shaft, and seemed to be primarily for the purpose of keeping air circulating rather than for any vigorous form of climate control.<br /><br />
<b>The Wenbaric have been attempting to leave the station</b>, a calm, cool, powerful voice said right next to her, causing her to jump, or, at least, jump as much as one can in a ventilator shaft. It was a familiar voice and it was perhaps not quite accurate to say that it was beside her, rather than just inside her skull.<br /><br />"Herri?" she said. "Can you hear me?"<br /><br />
<b>I do not need to hear you</b>, he replied with amusement. Then: <b>Kubiri says that they have been working since this morning on circumventing the security protocols in place and are beginning to override his current attempts to keep them docked the station. He has instituted countermeasures, but they know the system better than he does, and he does not know how much longer he can keep them.</b><br />"I think I see something ahead," said Katja. It was just beyond a juncture in the ducts; three joined together and just beyond them the whole thing ended in a screen, slightly dusty by now. Beside this screen was something on wheels, with lots of wires. "It is some sort of device," she said, as she wriggled closer.<br /><br />
<b>Yes</b>.<br /><br />She stopped. "Can you see it somehow?"<br /><br />
<b>Of course; I can see some of what you see. The optimal predator is the one who knows something of what it is like to be the prey</b>.<br /><br />"That is a bit disturbing," she replied. She moved closer to the device. "I have no idea what this is," she said. "Do you?"<br /><br />
<b>Of course</b>, Herri said, the voice in her head as cool and calm and sarcastically amused as ever. <b>It is a bomb.</b><br /><br />[1825]Brandonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06698839146562734910noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1056706052717983284.post-63967231844042607062012-11-26T14:21:00.002-06:002012-12-01T01:05:16.669-06:001.8 The Thing That Can Explode (I)The dream happened again, but this time in a different order: Weeping Woman, this time with a metallic hand rising out of the surface of the pool; Water; Vine God, this time as bright as the sun; Fire. And she was burning alive. It was not quite like burning your finger on a candle flame or hot surface. It was a fire that seemed to burn from within. When it became unbearable, she woke with a start. Sighing, she looked up at the ceiling, wondering when her life would start making any sense. She tried to replay the events of the previous day in her head, and it did not help at all. All the strange, interminable Ylfae talk about dreams seemed even stranger now than it had the day before.<br /><br />She remembered a <i>suvo</i> (she had not realized until then how much she had missed her routine of a <i>suvo</i> a day):<br /><br />
<i>Words have both surface and deep currents;<br />The wise will look for all the meaning.</i><br /><br />She remembered the name of one of the files she had looked at: "Countervailing Oneiric Indications". She should talk to Kubiri more about the Ylfae and dreams. She had no knowledge of Ylfae customs or expectations, but she could not imagine that anyone would argue for hours about a subject unless they thought it was somehow relevant. Surface, dreams; deep currents -- what?<br /><br />After she showered and was walking down to the kitchen, she tried to remember a song from the <i>Venahana</i>, any song, just to have a day that at least started off as a day in Katja's life should start.<br /><br />
<i>The stars are bright out, the blossoms glow,<br />here below the flowers scent the breeze;<br />I am far from home, but hopes still bloom,<br />perfuming my thought.<br /><br />The stars are bright out, the night is sweet,<br />upon the apple tree apples grow.<br />I am far from home, but truth may shine,<br />brightening my thought.</i><br /><br />She took a deep breath. She could face the day, insane Ylfae, sarcastic predators, and a job she had never asked for and whose purpose she did not comprehend. But she still wished she had a pot of tea. Hot water would be possible. She wondered if there was anything tea-like still in the ship stores; they had only brought the things that would be most obviously useful.<br /><br />Thinking thoughts like these she came to her office, where she had a nice surprise. On her desk was a flower, yellow with black flowing lines. It was made of paper, what seemed to be an old report on valves written in Ylfae, cunningly folded to look like a rose. She looked at it closely in something like awe; she had never seen anything like it. She wondered how it was done, but did not dare unfold it for fear she would be unable to fold it back again.<br /><br />The dream of the morning was mostly cleared away, still there in memory, but no longer a source of unease. <br /><br />She went to find Kubiri, and found him in command control. Several of the monitors were scrolling information at prodigious speed; Kubiri was watching them intently as his agile hands flew over the controls on the console. When Katja came and sat beside him, the monitors and hands alike slowed, then stopped, and he turned toward her.<br /><br />"How was your sleep-phase?" he asked cheerfully.<br /><br />"Not all that pleasant; I would rather not talk about it. Were you the one who put the folded flower on my desk?"<br /><br />"Yes," he said. "I came across a great stack of sheets, both paper and plastic. None of it was important: old information, frivolous reports. So I put a sheet or two to new use."<br /><br />"It was lovely."<br /><br />He put up his hands in a gesture she did not recognize. "I have always been good at geometry, ever since my aunt first showed me how to fold paper in order to do proofs."<br /><br />"Do you spend all your nights just speeding through computer records?" she asked, gesturing at the console. "Setting aside, of course, bouts of paper-folding."<br /><br />"It is inefficient to spend all one's time on only one project," he replied, pushing his lips out humorously. "I have my docket of Private Consultations, ideas I am working out for various Logic Societies of which I am a member, simulations I construct and run, puzzles I investigate. For instance, the Winbaric delegation spent part of the night walking the halls. They seem familiar with the layout of the station, and were able to override certain doors that had been sealed shut."<br /><br />"That's a little disturbing." Katja considered this a moment. "Is there any way you can bring up the functions from my desk here?"<br /><br />"I can connect you with your desk directly." He did so, and Katja entered her passcode for the desk. As she searched for what she wanted, she asked, "Tell me, Kubiri, did anything from yesterday's negotiations make any sense to you? What was all the talk about dreams?"<br /><br />"It need not have anything to do with dreams themselves; it is just that much of the Ylfae vocabulary for discussing symbolisms is based on various dream-practices that the Ylfae use to heighten their already considerable ideasthetic tendencies. That is, they do not just have ideas, they have certain sensory experiences in response to them: recognizing a mathematical pattern may be associated with a sound, the meaning of a word may be associated with a color, the idea of a virtue may be associated with a visible pattern of lines, and so on. At the same time, and partly because of this biological fact that all Ylfae share to some extent, getting symbolisms right is very important for Ylfae social interaction. In this case, the Taladac were expressing good faith as mediators by putting forward the symbolism they associate with their understanding of the situation, and the Winbaric began negotiation by trying to argue they should revise their symbolism. It is the Ylfae way of establishing common first principles; the Winbaric were attempting to argue that the Taladac should not see their position as one of neutrality or their goal in terms of deciding in favor of one party over the other, but should instead regard themselves as protecting a natural presumption in favor of local authorities, like the Winbaric themselves."<br /><br />"So there was nothing unusual about it?"<br /><br />Kubiri considered this carefully and began to hum his melodic one-note hum. Then he said, "It is very difficult for a non-Ylfae to follow all the nuances of Ylfae symbolic negotiation. But based on prior experience, I think the Winbaric were making arguments that would generally be regarded as weak or strained, and this seems confirmed by the responses of the Taladac, who seem to have been somewhat surprised that the Winbaric were making the arguments that they were."<br /><br />"I get the feeling that none of the delegates are genuinely interested in negotiation."<br /><br />"You are not alone, but it raises some puzzling questions. The Winbaric have no way of re-establishing control of the station except through negotiation. If they are not interested in negotiating, and yet are not conceding, then there is the problem of what their true goals are."<br /><br />Katja finally found what she wanted. "These are the motion sensor logs for the station. In a full station they would not be very helpful for tracking anyone, because they are indiscriminate, but since we have almost no one on the station, we should be able to use it to discover exactly where they were and what they were doing. I noticed the motion sensors almost immediately, and knew there was some kind of archive for them; I just had to dig a bit to find how to access it." She studied the monitor a moment. "I should be able to find this. Would it be fine if I look into this before the negotiations?"<br /><br />"It is your station," said Kubiri. "You may do whatever you wish, as long as you maintain the Rights of Hospitality under the Alliance Charter. I am here to assist you in whatever you think may need doing. If I may suggest, though, while you start your investigation, I could make an appointment with the Taladac delegation for lunch. While I cannot guarantee that it will be a pleasant meal, it might be helpful for getting an Ylfae view on whether the Winbaric are acting strangely and what their behavior might mean."<br /><br />"Yes," said Katja reluctantly. "I suppose you are right. Do you think they will actually agree to lunch?"<br /><br />"If they hesitate," Kubiri said drily, "I am sure they will have good reason, one that I will tell them I will gladly pass their reasons on to the Samar High Council."<br /><br />"I see," said Katja with a smile. "They will no doubt take the hint."<br /><br />Kubiri put his hands up in something like a shrug. "Most of diplomacy splits into two parts," he said. "The first is making people see that doing the right thing is easier and more pleasant than they think, and the second is making them see that doing the wrong thing is harder and less pleasant than it might seem. There are ways and ways of doing each."<br /><br />[1554]Brandonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06698839146562734910noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1056706052717983284.post-2091294849184210752012-11-18T23:17:00.001-06:002012-11-18T23:17:25.291-06:001.7 Negotiations (II)It seemed to take forever to gather together all the delegates. Was this how negotiations usually went? Katja had imagined it as a much more orderly process than it was. Perhaps it was when it was not all thrown together at the last minute. Katja sighed. Perhaps it was when it was not being hosted by an Administrator who did not know what she was doing.<br /><br />She had also imagined it a more pleasant process than it was. To be sure, she had not expected good cheer and bonhomie, but she had always thought that diplomats at least made an attempt to seem friendly, at least pretended that they were simply there to resolve the dispute in a way good for everyone. But the Ylfae were nothing like this. When the two Taladac Ylfae arrived, they complained, loudly and without cease, at having to wait, looking at her with strange looks that she supposed must be the Ylfae version of reproach, as if it were wholly her fault, and yet simultaneously refusing to listen to anything she said, except when they could take it as an insult. At which point they began shouting at her, or rather tried to shout at her, until Kubiri, his calm and pleasant voice somehow cutting through the shouting as if it were nothing, suggested that their shouting was making it difficult to understand their Simplified Samar. That quieted them, although Katja suspected it was the Samar mystique rather than the suggestion that had done it. Nonetheless, they continued to complain to her, at her, about her.<br /><br />Things only became worse when the Winbaric arrived. They immediately began to complain that the Taladac had been allowed to seat themselves before they had even arrived. It was their station, they said. It was their territory, they said. No doubt the Administrator was on the side of the Taladac, who had oppressed Tura like the Winbaric for thousands of years, and through plotting and scheming -- at this point they looked darkly at Kubiri -- had constantly worked to marginalize the Winbaric and steal what was rightfully theirs. They would have none of it. They would not take such nonsense from Taladac <i>skunaktiriadosh</i>.<br /><br />Katja had no idea what <i>skunaktiriadosh</i> were, since it was an Ylfae word she had never come across, but the Taladac certainly knew. At this point they jumped up and began shouting at the Winbaric in Ylfae. Anyone who has never tried shouting at someone in Ylfae, should consider doing so at some point. Ylfae is a leisurely language with endless syllables and plenty of vowels, so it is possible to put a large quantity of malice, anger, and contempt into every single word. Nothing sounds so insulting as an insult in Ylfae; even a mild insult is enough to wither a stout heart.<br /><br />Katja attempted to intervene, but it did no good; the Taladac ignored her and the Winbaric took it as an occasion for including her in their insults and accusations. At one point she looked at Kubiri. He seemed not to be paying much attention to the argument. Contemplative sitting, perhaps. Well, he was the expert negotiator, so she gave up and sat down next to him. She sighed. It had been very different in her mind. She had planned to begin with introductions, and it had never occurred to her that the whole thing would break down into a shouting match before she could even ask for an exchange of names.<br /><br />"Are Ylfae negotiations always like this?" she asked Kubiri quietly in Sylven.<br /><br />"Not usually," said Kubiri in the same language. He was watching it all with mild interest. "But it does happen. Their reputation for being erratic and unpredictable is somewhat exaggerated, but there is a reason they have it. On the positive side, it usually takes very little work to discover what they really think and want. At this point in the argument it is probably best just to let them get it out of their system."<br /><br />The argument grew increasingly heated, the shouting louder, the insults and accusations more creative. Katja wondered if it would escalate to violence. She worried that perhaps she should do something, but she could not think of anything to do.<br /><br />There was, however, one thing that could bring the argument to a halt. The Tanaver representative arrived.<br /><br />To say that he arrived somewhat underestimates the Chaka style. He did not just arrive. He sprang into the room, and onto the table, so swiftly that it was almost as if he had suddenly sprung up from the table itself. He threw his head back and gave a call, not a roar but something like the honk of a goose, if geese could make their sounds in bass and sustain it for a full minute. Not a goose, thought Katja, although the sound did remind her of a large bird. Say instead a foghorn. Whatever the natural habitat of the Chaktai, conference rooms were not one of them, and the carrying sound of the call echoed in the room. Everyone else in the room put their hands over their ears, the Ylfae doing so as they were still stumbling backwards from the startling appearance of the Chaka.<br /><br />As quickly as he had appeared on the table, he ran down toward its end, jumped down onto the bench at the far hand, twisted around, and put his hands on the table, leaning forward as if he were about to spring again. He did not, however. Instead he just looked first at each Ylfae delegation, both of whom were currently cowering against the walls of the room. Chaka physiognomy being so different from Sylven, Katja knew that expressions of one could not be assumed to carry over to the other. But if Herri had been Sylven, the look on his face would have been undeniably one of sarcastic, perhaps contemptuous amusement.<br /><br />There was a pause as the Ylfae watched to see what Herri would do next. At this point, Katja, having recovered from the surprise of the Chaka's appearance and his piercing trumpet-blast, saw that she had to seize this moment or else not ever get the negotiation under control. She rose and said, "I would like to introduce you all to the Tanaver representative for this negotiation. Now that we have all arrived, we can begin."<br /><br />From this point the negotiations began to be more manageable. The Ylfae on both sides still refused to give their names, but neither side did any more shouting. One of the Taladac representatives gave a long speech. It made no sense at all to Katja; while it was in Simplified Samar, it seemed to consist largely of discussions of dreams, and by the time it was ended, she was completely baffled at the point. The Winbaric, however, listened attentively, albeit contemptuously, and when the Taladac representative sat down, one of the Winbaric representatives stood and gave a very similar, although shorter speech. Both sides seemed distracted during their speeches, however; in particular, they seemed somewhat disconcerted by Herri's tendency to tap the table with a claw if the discussion went on for any length of time. There was then some arguing back and forth about the various symbols that had been mentioned in the original speeches. This went on long enough that they had not talked about anything that Katja could see was even relevant to the point at issue by the time that the discussion neeeded to be ended for the day.<br /><br />It had been a baffling, and disappointing, and exasperating day. And it did not help that, every so often, Katja heard an echo in the back of her head, a fragment of memory from the dream: <i>Right roads may lead through the gates of death</i>.<br />
<br />
[1299]Brandonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06698839146562734910noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1056706052717983284.post-68137269108742256792012-11-18T00:16:00.001-06:002012-11-18T00:16:29.637-06:001.7 Negotiations (I)"I confess, said Katja, "that this is not what I had expected." She and Kubiri were sitting in her office the next day.<br /><br />"In what way?"<br /><br />"I suppose I thought there would be more talking. Instead, the Ylfae have locked themselves away on their ship, the Winbaric have not even arrived, and, as for Herri, I am not even where he is."<br /><br />"He is prowling the station; every so often the motion detectors register him. From what I understand, Chaktai like to have a thorough acquaintance with their surroundings."<br /><br />Katja sighed. She wanted it all to be done, and it seemed intent on not being so. She was tired and a little irritable. She had again had the dream. She had begun with the weeping woman beside the pool. A light breeze was whispering all around, snatches of words, like a conversation just at the edge of hearing. The world tipped, and she was underwater and drowning, looking up through the water at the moon. Before she could wake, however, the moon burst into a blaze of light, becoming a golden and radiant sun. The sun made the water vanish away like mist, and she was standing in a vineyard and facing the Vine God. <i>Right roads may lead through the gates of death</i>, he said. She opened her mouth to reply, but could get out no words. As she struggled to do so, she had awakened. Ever since a hollow feeling, something like an indefinite sorrow, had been gathering her chest.<br /><br />Her brooding meditation was cut into by Kubiri. "If the Winbaric do not show, this simply makes your work easier."<br /><br />"Then I suspect they will show," Katja said drily. She looked at him a moment. "This must be quite dull and tedious for you, endless waiting and occasionally leaping in to help me with my bumbling."<br /><br />"You must not think that," he replied reproachfully. "This is a Tanaver Consultation, the highest level of Consultation possible; they are never uninteresting. As for the waiting, during your sleeping period I have a long list of Private Consultations to work through."<br /><br />"If you would like to do so now, you should certainly not let me keep you from it."<br /><br />"That would be most inappropriate," Kubiri replied. "A Tanaver Consultation takes absolute priority over any other Consultation, whether private or from the Samar High Council. While you are awake, I am, and must be, at your complete disposal until the terms and conditions of the Consultation are fulfilled; I cannot rule out the possibility that something of importance might come up at any moment. Even when you are asleep, I do not devote my full attention to any Private Consultation.<br /><br />"The waiting is not a problem, either. I simply practice contemplative sitting."<br /><br />"And what is contemplative sitting?"<br /><br />The Samar leaned back thoughtfully in his chair and began to hum, one clean, steady note. Then he said, "The pursuit of beauty requires, perhaps more than anything else, the cultivation of sincerity. We must sincerely shine in our true nature, which is the inner harmony that unfolds as our life. Through sincerity we become still, yet also active; unmoved, yet moving all; one, yet many. If we achieve this, then, regardless of our situation, whether we are acting or resting, whether we are speaking or doing or restraining ourselves from speaking and doing, we may be seized by beauty and remain in it. But achieving sincerity requires practice; it requires finding ways to make manifest the integral harmonies of things. This can be done with things around us, and this we call 'examination of pattern'. It can also be done by exploring the possibilities of one's own mind, and this finding of pattern within oneself we call 'contemplative sitting'. There are others: 'studious reflection', 'honoring moral disposition', 'concern perspective', 'unwoven awareness', 'expanding regard'. Many others. Through such practices one develops and refines the five excellences of rectitude, balance, prudence, constancy, and integrity, and by these excellences we become beautiful and fit for beauty."<br /><br />He regarded her for a moment, running a finger along the brim of his fedora, then continued, "Regardless, it is a very dangerous thing to begin to think that the most important things in life are done in grand gestures. We can only ascend to beauty as we should if we can do so in the mundane matters of life. There is harmony to be discovered and sung in whatever we do, whether it is solving a problem, or making a meal, or simply sitting and waiting." His lips pushed forward and his eyes twinkled. "Or talking with a friend. And, in a sense, pursuit of beauty is our only task. Regardless of what others wish, regardless of what the Ylfae and Winbaric do, regardless even of what the Tanaver wish, whatever may be set before us, our task and role is to find and extend beauty within and without. Nothing more."<br /><br />"That is lovely."<br /><br />He spread his hands. "It is the way of my people. Your people as well have means and methods in the pursuit of beauty; all civilized people do, for civilization is nothing other than the common pursuit of beauty."<br /><br />Katja was about to ask him for more details, but she was interrupted by a chime on her desk. She called up a screen and frowned. "The Winbaric have arrived."<br /><br />"May I?" asked Kubari, standing and coming around to the other side of the desk. Katja moved back and gestured at him to proceed. He called up several screens, examined them briefly, then executed several commands.<br /><br />"I have sent them docking instructions," he said.<br /><br />They walked down to the docks. It was a much easier walk than it had been that first time. The most important conveyors were now working so that when you stepped on them they hummed to life and carried you gently down the hall at a gliding pace. Less burdened by the stress of new surroundings, less bitten by the anger of having been hurled across the galaxy to a deserted place in the middle of nowhere, she found the hallways to be attractive. There was an excessive tendency to unnecessary ornament; no one minds unnecessary ornament in small doses, but many places in the hallways, particularly around doorways or in corners, the ornament sprang up profusely, like an overgrown garden, like a pastry covered too liberally with white and pastel icing. The ornamentation in corners seemed to hide planters and fountains, now empty and dry, and she wondered if it would seem more ornate or less if these had been filled and flowing. It is the barrenness of a wilderness that makes its rocks seem bizarrely shaped and its occasional tree seem scraggly; and perhaps it was the barrenness of the station that made its ornaments seem overdone. Lin Ohuen was perhaps not so much a city in heaven as an artificial garden, wholly self-contained, that had been long abandoned, and simply needed someone with a green thumb to come along. Water here, plants there, and you would hardly know that you were in space.<br /><br />There were three Winbaric, and each one looked almost exactly like the other two. Like the Taladac they were tall and very pale (more pale, if possible, than the Taladac), with the large eyes and narrow faces. Instead of black hair, however, their hair was yellowish white, a soft gold-alloy color, that made them look even stranger to Katja's Sylven eyes; all Sylven had dark hair, and she had not known that hair could come in this strange pale color. Their eyes were not mauve, as the other Ylfae's eyes had been, but were an equally strange color, icy blue. They wore brown woven cloth, painted with Ylfae symbosl, but had furs hanging over their belts. Bound to the forehead of each was a silver ornament, somewhat like a 5 on its side. They each held a metal baton or rod covered with ornate tracery.<br /><br />"Welcome to Lin Ohuen," said Katja cheerfully.<br /><br />The three Winbaric looked at her a moment, then simultaneously their gaze slid over and down to the short Samar by the side."Are you the Tanaver representative?" one of them said in highly accented, and rather belligerent, Simplified Samar.<br /><br />Kubiri glanced up at Katja, and a hint of amusement passed between them, but he gave the answer he had given before. "I am not. The Samar High Council has chosen me, at the request of the Tanaver, to be Consultant to Katja Ilkaiomenen, who is the Adminstrator of this station." And he gestured at Katja.<br /><br />"Why have the Tanaver interfered with Winbaric government?" one of the other Ylfae demanded.<br /><br />"I am not privy to Tanaver intentions, nor am I their representative in this negotiation," Kubiri replied coolly. "I am merely a Consultant at present to the Administrator of the station." And he gestured at Katja again.<br /><br />"And why does a Sylven Administrator of a Winbaric station need to be assisted by a Samar?" said the third with narrowed eyes. "What have the Samar to do with this?"<br /><br />"The Samar High Council was requested by the Tanaver to provide a Consultant; that is all."<br /><br />The first Winbaric snorted."Do you think we are fools? The Samar do not mind the affairs of individuals on the edge of space but manipulate societies and civilizations that spread over galaxies and supergalactic clusters. In everything they do they find a way to aggrandize themselves, meddling with all things to their own ulterior ends. Do you expect us to believe that, all of a sudden and for no reason, they, rulers of the Universes, have begun sending themselves around the Alliance as errand-boys and secretaries?"<br /><br />"We are merely a small Protectorate in Universe Two. We rule no one but ourselves, do nothing but give advice and assistance, and perform the small tasks set before us. In this case, I am simply, at the request of the Tanaver, assisting Administrator Katja with the transition." And he indicated her again.<br /><br />Katja jumped in. "The other representatives have already arrived. We can begin negotiations immediately, if you like, as soon as we gather all the other negotiators in the conference room."<br /><br />Simultaneously, all three Winbaric representatives looked at her, and then simultaneously they all looked back down at Kubiri. "We still have matters that must be cared for on our ship before we are able to attend this meeting," one of them said, clearly and deliberately speaking to Kubiri rather than to Katja. "We will be along shortly."<br /><br />Kubiri did not respond and looked at Katja.<br /><br />"That will be acceptable," said Katja coldly.<br /><br />The three Winbaric returned to their ship. Katja stood still until they were gone, then looked down with exasperation at Kubiri. "These Ylfae are trying my patience." Any trace of the earlier hollow feeling had been washed away by a cold anger.<br /><br />"The Ylfae try everybody's patience," said Kubiri. "But Ylfae are usually distracted and mercurial, not actively belligerent. These three come with an agenda. But Ylfae are the best interpreters of Ylfae. Difficult as it is to get the Ylfae involved in a coherent conversation, I recommend that, at some point after negotiations begun, you get the opinion of the other Ylfae delegation about the behevior of this one. It may provide useful information."<br /><br />They turned and walked back. "How are we going to find Herri for negotiations?"<br /><br />"I doubt he will be difficult to find. The Chaktai have ways of knowing things."<br />
<br />
[1914]Brandonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06698839146562734910noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1056706052717983284.post-25524307720856978982012-11-16T22:53:00.002-06:002012-11-16T22:57:29.299-06:001.6 Representatives (II)It was not long afterward that the Ylfae ship arrived and Katja and Kubiri went out to meet the new arrivals. While she had seen Ylfae in pictures, Katja had never met one in real life, and was excited to be able to do so. They were not quite what she expected.<br />
<br />
There were two of them, and they looked almost exactly alike. They were tall; a good head taller than Katja herself, and two heads taller than the Samar. They had straight black hair and strangely large eyes set in long, narrow faces. Their eye-colors were not Sylven colors; they were deeply mauve, and they were just a little farther apart than Sylven eyes would be. Their noses were very much like Sylven noses, although slightly upturned. Their ears were also very like Sylven ears, although set back slightly. Most strangely, however, their skin was very pale, almost white, like cloth that has been bleached; the pictures had not prepared Katja for the oddity of seeing it in person. They wore clothes that looked like some kind of fur-lined suede, covered all over with the cryptic symbols the Ylfae seemed to put everywhere. They each wore a golden symbol, like a horizontal two-headed Y, >-<, bound to their foreheads with a leather thong. Each had an ornate staff of what looked like polished white wood, although perhaps it was some synthetic imitation.<br />
<br />
They came striding with a slow, silent, long-legged lope.<br />
<br />
"Welcome to Lin Ohuen," Katja said in her most cheerful voice.<br />
<br />
The Ylfae ignored her, and both looked down at Kubiri.<br />
<br />
"Are you the Tanaver representative?" one of them said. His Simplified Samar was slow and deliberate.<br />
<br />
"I am not," said Kubiri. "At the request of the Tanaver, I have been chosen by the Samar High Council to be Consultant to Katja Ilkaiomenen, who is the Adminstrator of this station." He indicated her. It was done quite smoothly; the answer to the question became an introduction that returned attention to Katja.<br />
<br />
The Ylfae glanced at her and returned their attention to the Samar, so simultaneously that it was somewhat unsettling. "What are the Tanaver about in this dispute?"<br />
<br />
"You will have plenty of time to ask the Tanaver representative to the negotiation; I am merely Consultant to the station Administrator."<br />
<br />
"What is your name?" said the other Ylfae. His Simplified Samar was also slow and deliberate.<br />
<br />
Kubiri's pleasant tone did not quite change, but there was something more steely about it, hard to place and perhaps not even part of the voice -- the set of the eyes, perhaps. "My name is of no significance in this matter. If you need to address me, you may do so as 'Consultant'. If you have any inquiries of significance, you may address them to the station Administrator, who is, as I said, Katja Ilkaiomenen." He indicated her as he had before, but turned more fully toward her so that he was no longer facing the Ylfae.<br />
<br />
The two Ylfae ignored this and began talking with each other in a dialect of Ylfae. It was clear that they did not expect Katja, and perhaps not Kubiri, to understand it, so Katja carefully set her face so as not to give away the fact that she followed most of it quite well and could make reasonable guesses as to the rest.<br />
<br />
"If the Samar are directly involved, and they are sending more than one...," began the first.<br />
<br />
"...then there is something here beyond what there appears to be," finished the other.<br />
<br />
"An insignificant system; all our records...."<br />
<br />
"...yes, but there must be something."<br />
<br />
The first Ylfae turned back to Kubiri. "When will the Tanaver representative arrive?"<br />
<br />
Kubiri studiously ignored the question and looked up at Katja. Katja took the cue.<br />
<br />
"The Tanaver representative will be arriving later today," she said, keeping her cheerful voice. She wondered suddenly, though, whether cheerfulness sounded the same to the Ylfae. She toned it down slightly. "I am afraid that the station is in considerable disarray. It has been abandoned for some time and we have only just arrived to get it ready for this disucssion of differences."<br />
<br />
The Ylfae simultaneously looked from Kubiri to Katja. "We received the communication," said the second, in the slow, deliberate Simplified Samar. "We will stay on our own ship."<br />
<br />
"I am afraid we were not sent your names," she said.<br />
<br />
The Ylfae both looked at her a long while and then said, "We will return to our ship and wait until the arrival of the otehr representatives." Their Simplified Samar, which was technically acceptable but overpronounced and not even as fluid as Katja's, much less Kubiri's, was beginning to irritate Katja, and she wondered how long she would be able to endure it during negotiations. They turned away without ceremony and went back the way they came.<br />
<br />
Katja waited until they were both gone, then she looked down at Kubiri, who seemed to be studying her closely. "Given your background, I imagine you can understand Ylfae."<br />
<br />
Kubiri's lips pushed forward in that broad, four-cornered Samar grin. "I am completely fluent in fifteen distinct dialects of it, and when it has been put to the test with people who could not see me, my grasp of the language has passed for that of a native Ylfae among the Ylfae themselves," said Kubiri, as they both turned and walked down the hallway.<br />
<br />
"I think it is in our interest not to make that known."<br />
<br />
"I agree. In the artisanship of negotiation, all information is an instrument, and should be used only when sincerity and honesty and the goals of the negotiation require. The Universes and their galaxies are vast, but there is a bare possibility that if they learn my short-name they may be able to discover the fact prematurely by tracing down records of prior Consultations; it is not something about which we need fret much, but I do recommend that we exercise a certain amount of care on the point."<br />
<br />
"Certainly," said Katja. After a moment, thinking of the troubles the Syylven were having with the Ylfae trade negotiations, she said, "Are all Ylfae like that?"<br />
<br />
"The Ylfae brain is structured in such a way that they both experience intensive ideasthesia and undergo a low-level version of what you might think of as dreaming on a constant basis. It is part of what gives them a reputation for being an erratic and arrogant species -- not completely deserved, although not completely undeserved, either. They are -- what is the Sylven expression? -- 'lost in their own world', at least until they are roused by fear or anger. Nonetheless, these do not seem to be professional negotiators."<br />
<br />
"Is that significant?"<br />
<br />
"It may not be. As I mentioned before, everything is done by family among the Ylfae; the local Taladac clans would have chosen a family to handle the negotiations, and then the family itself would have chosen the negotiators. Then again, it may be useful later if negotiations do not go well; it would be embarrassing for the Ylfae to handle a negotiation involving the Tanaver badly, but massively more so if it were clearly their own fault."<br />
<br />
"Be that as it may," said Katja, "we still are in our original position, without any significant information."<br />
<br />
"I could send a request to the Samar High Council, who could put pressure on the Ylfae government to send us an entire docket. But it would take time we likely would not have. There may be a shorter way, although its probability of success is very small. You did notice the symbols on their clothes?"<br />
<br />
"Yes; very much like the symbols on the computer combination, or in some of the files."<br />
<br />
"They are dream-symbols, and are usually indicators of past experiences. I took the liberty of recording them, and can check them against a symbol database. It might give us something of use."<br />
<br />
Katja smiled. "That is quite ingenious."<br />
<br />
"It will likely give us nothing, but, if so, we won't be worse off than we are now, will we?"<br />
<br />
A few hours later they were standing in another hallway waiting for the Tanaver representative. Katja was standing more rigidly than she usually did, and felt somewhat embarrassed for doing so. But Kubiri had recommended in the strongest terms that she steel herself to meet the Chaka envoy, because everyone needed to steel themselves to meet any Chaka at all; and she found that when she tried to steel herself mentally, her body slowly started steeling itself, too.<br />
<br />
When she saw the Chaka, however, all this was forgotten completely, because she saw immediately why everyone needed to steel themselves in order to meet a Chaka. The Chaka looked somewhat reptilian, but its movements were swift and alert, as if it were about to spring. It was as large as Katja, and as tall, standing as it did on two feet; these feet were attached to powerful haunches and seemed excellently shaped for running. It had six-fingered hands with sharp retractable claws. It had a long narrow muzzle and a mouth full of sharp teeth. Its eyes were yellow with slits, set somewhat to the side, so that the creatures head tilted slightly in order to look something straight on. It was black and wore some kind of black suit, tightly fitting, with what were obviously weapons of some kind slung and holstered around its body. And all around it there was something like an atmosphere of dread and fear, as thick and palpable forceful as strong smoke.<br />
<br />
He came right up to Katja and looked her in the eye, head tilted aside. They were mesmerizing eyes. They were a ruthless predator's eyes, but they were the eyes of an amused ruthless predator. Chills went up and down Katja's spine. But she was not going to embarrass herself or Kubiri. She was not. She was not.<br />
<br />
She took a deep breath and said, in as level a voice as she could manage,"Welcome to Lin Ohuen. I am Katja Ilkaiomenen, the Sylven Administrator. What is your name?"<br />
<br />
The Chaka tilted his head the other way, his eye still fixed on her. Then he opened his mouth, sharp white teeth clearly displayed. The sound that came out was something between a gurgle and hiss and a cough.<br />
<br />
Katja had no idea whether this was his name or not. But it would not do to back down. "I am afraid I cannot pronounce that. I will therefore call you Herri." The Sylven word <i>herri</i> meant 'dragon'.<br />
<br />
He looked at her a full minute longer, a new look added onto the amused ruthlessness. Was it her imagination or did the amusement become tinged with sarcasm? Then his head swung around to look at Kubiri. There was a moment when they both looked at each other eye to eye -- how was Kubiri able to look so relaxed and calm and cheerful?<br />
<br />
Then Kubiri grinned the four-cournered Samar grin and said, "I agree."<br />
<br />
The Chaka head swung back to Katja. Then she felt a very strange thing in her head. It was like someone speaking suddenly in your ear when you are alone. In fact, it was exactly this. We spend our lives alone in our heads, and yet suddenly here was a voice there, too. It was cool and ruthless and more than slightly sarcastic.<br />
<br />
<b>I require no special attentions, and I will find my own way to my rooms.</b> He moved past them both; it was startling how swiftly he moved. And when Katja looked back down the hallway he was no longer in sight.<br />
<br />
"What did he say to you?" She asked Kubiri.<br />
<br />
"It was quite a compliment. He said that you were the kind of prey who would be more challenging than she seemed at first."<br />
<br />
The Winbaric representatives did not arrive as scheduled.<br />
<br />
[1929] Brandonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06698839146562734910noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1056706052717983284.post-90726402795236437592012-11-15T14:41:00.002-06:002012-11-15T14:41:39.256-06:001.6 Representatives (I)"Will we be able to feed the Ylfae and Winbaric representatives?"<br /><br />Katja and Kubiri were both sitting in the central command center, checking various systems.<br /><br />"I have already taken the liberty of informing them that they would have to provide for themselves on that point," Kubiri said. "In reality I don't think we have to worry much about issues of hospitality; we probably should provide for the Tanaver representative, if we can. But, difficult as it may be to believe, our inability to do much on this subject is to your advantage, since all the relevant problems are obviously prior to your own involvement. It places the clear burden of negotiation on the Tanaver and the Winbaric, thus minimizing your own risk. It will require a more patient and subtle game if we are to get the full benefit out of the situation, but with a bit of care, we should be able to handle the situation."<br /><br />"The Taladac are looking for a compromise. They will prefer a solution in which they can avoid increasing tensions with the Winbaric and yet also not cross the Tanaver. The Syylven would like to force Taladac cooperation in renegotiating current trade treaties. And the Winbaric would like to have the system back. So here's a possibility: promise the Taladac that the Syylven will concede the claim if the Taladac in return make certain trade concessions."<br /><br />"An admirable solution, but one that founders on the key point: the Tanaver have granted the Syylven the system and put you in charge of the station. It is extraordinarily unlikely that they did so simply in order to facilitate a trade negotiation. Nor would they have formally requested the Samar High Council to select a Consultant to help you maintain the Sylven claim and your position as Administrator unless they intended precisely this."<br /><br />Katja considered this. "Then the real question is what the Tanaver want from all of this."<br /><br />"If that is the real question," said Kubiri, "it is one to which we may never know the answer. What the Tanaver want depends on what the Tanaver know, and who knows what the Tanaver know? I think the real question is a different one: What do the Winbaric want? They are obviously not active in this system and they obviously abandoned the station some time ago. They surely know that the Taladac are unlikely to side with them against the Tanaver. Are they really just trying to hold on to this system by any means necessary? And if so, why? If not, what is their alternative reason?<br /><br />"Certain possibilities present themselves. First, they could be doing this simply because it will put the local Taladac clans in a difficult position. Second, there could be something valuable about this system, something not immediately obvious. Third, they could be using this to open trade re-negotiations themselves. And there are sure to be others. Each suggests a different course of action: the first to wait for the Taladac clans to resolve the situation on their won; the third to wait for the Winbaric to make their first negotiation moves; and the second to discover anything of value about the situation."<br /><br />"Since the first and third simply require waiting, and we can try to determine what is valuable in this system without interfering with either, we should proceed for now on the practical assumption that there is something valuable about this system that they want to keep, even though they do not currently want to bother with the system or station itself at this point. If it turns out to be wrong, we will have wasted relatively little, and if it is right, it may make a difference in the negotiations."<br /><br />"That is a reasonable way to proceed," said Kubiri.<br /><br />"But honestly," Katja went on, starting to pace, "I am not even sure what I am supposed to be negotiating. And I am not a negotiator, anyway. I've never done this before."<br /><br />"If I may make a suggestion, your best move in the negotiation is not to think of yourself as negotiating anything. Think of yourself as simply hosting the negotiation. Your essential role is not to negotiate issues about the station, but simply to keep the negotiation going until it reaches satisfactory resolution."<br /><br />"Which would be?"<br /><br />"In this case, official Ylfae recognition of this system as now falling under Sylven jurisdiction, preferably with rather than without Winbaric concession, and the preservation of your status as Administrator. Those are, in any case, the two ends for which I was chosen to consult. You will have to involve yourself in the negotiation, but it is the Tanaver representative who will do most of the actual negotiation."<br /><br />"Another Samar?<br /><br />"Yes."<br /><br />There was silence a moment as Katja continued to pace. Then she said, "How will I keep the negotiation going if it starts to break down?"<br /><br />"It is easier than you would think. Try to get further information; recapitulate and then test your summaries by asking for clarification; express your feelings on the various aspects of the negotiation, as long as they would not clearly be seen as weaknesses. Avoid being aggressive until key concessions are made, and then be very selective about being so; that is generally important with all ylfoids. The major difficulty of interacting with Ylfae is that they are passionately devoted to symbolisms, so if there appears to be any purely symbolic behavior going on, do not be afraid to ask for information about it. But, truly, you will have less difficulty than you seem to think; the Ylfae at the table will likely be more afraid of the end of negotiations than anything else, and the Tanaver representative will not cease negotiating until the matter is resolved."<br /><br />"I just wish I had more preparation. If the thing can explode, it probably will."<br /><br />Kubiri's lips quirked a bit, and he opened his mouth to say something, but a chime interrupted him. He looked at the communication that came up on the screen, then pursed his lips in perplexity.<br /><br />"It seems I was wrong," he said. "The Tanaver representative is not Samar at all. What do you know of the Chaktai?"<br /><br />"They are one of the Core Protectorates. Beyond that, nothing."<br /><br />"There is relatively little that is known about them, although the Samar have long had dealings with them. They are not samaroid. Their society is matriarchal in the strict sense: their general parliament is only open to mothers, and their primary ruling body is the Council of Threefold Mothers, consisting of all Chaktai who have had at least three children. Their physiology makes giving birth a dangerous endeavor; that links motherhood and merit on one side and motherhood and death on the other, and almost everything we know about Chaktai culture is due to one of those links."<br /><br />"One of these mothers is coming as the Tanaver representative."<br /><br />Kubiri shook his head. "A Chaka mother would never be involved in a minor thing like a negotiation; we will meet one of the males. He will be arriving somewhat later than both Ylfae groups."<br /><br />At that point he closed his eyes, his head tilted slightly, and began to hum. It was a single note, pure and beautiful, an went on for far longer than Katja herself could have held a note. Then he opened his eyes and looked at Katja. "The puzzle gets more puzzling. The Chaktai are not negotiators, and picking a Chaka as a negotiator in a samaroid negotiation, out of all the individuals in all the universes, is...." He seemed at a loss for words. "It is puzzling," he finally ended lamely.<br /><br />"Will it affect the negotiations?"<br /><br />"There is nothing in the negotiations it will not effect. The Chaktai way of doing things is distinctively unpredictable. We will have to improvise as events come up."<br /><br />It was Katja's turn to shake her head. "If the thing can explode, it will."<br /><br />He put out his hands in a wry gesture. "Truly," he said.<br />
<br />
[1335]Brandonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06698839146562734910noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1056706052717983284.post-46145010882608964812012-11-13T22:23:00.001-06:002012-11-13T22:23:21.639-06:001.5 Ohu's Stronghold (II)The crews' quarters were unadorned, with nothing more than padded benches for sleeping. She wondered when she would next be able to sleep in a real bed. There was dust, but it was not as bad as she had expected after the outer corridors. The bathrooms had running water, although the pressure was very low; something to look into. <br /><br />Since there was so little to look at in quarters, started wandering around. Eventually she found the administrator's office, or what she thought was the administrator's office. It had a large anteroom with plenty of colorful padded benches and a fountain (currently dry).The office itself was not itself very large, but it had a desk and some benches, and also monitors on the wall, some of which were on. As she watched, one of them suddenly came to life.<br /><br />"These must be connected to the command center monitors," she said to herself. Some the monitors were relatively stable, showing various graphs covered with cryptic symbols. Others, like the one that had just blinked on, were constantly changing. The new one seemed to be going through different pages at a prodigious rate; it did not look like it was being done automatically, however, occasionally a little circle would fly around the page and click on various things. The rate at which the screen changed was much faster than Katja could read Ylfae; she could only pick out words here and there.<br /><br />She turned her back on the monitor and brushed the dust off the desk. It was not merely a desk but some kind of console in its own right: there were buttons with various symbols, again cryptic, written on them. Tentatively she pressed one. The whole desktop sprang to life. On the left there were the same kinds of graphs shown on the monitors. Some of these were more clearly labeled than the monitor graphs were. One was energy use for different sectors of the station; another was air quality at several different monitoring stations; another seemed to say something about planetary conditions. Others remained cryptic. She found, however, that she could move the graphs around the desktop simply by moving them with her finger.<br /><br />On the right side of the desk was a more complicated affair. There was just a long list of things in Ylfae script. She picked one at random -- it was called "Elemental Composition Analyses" -- and touched it. When she did the list became a different list, she pressed one again -- "41" -- and a report came up in the center of the desk consisting of various charts and graphs. There was a little green sign flashing in the corner. It said: "Update reports are past due."<br /><br />"Past due by quite a bit, I'd think," said Katja. She supposed that the report was some kind of report on element 41 (she could not, off the top of her head, remember anything about element 41). Old mining surveys, perhaps.<br /><br />It took her several minutes to figure out how to back out of the list and get back to the original list. The names were mostly boring and sometimes unintelligible: "Archived Water Usage Reports"; "Potential Computer Resource Abuse"; "Countervailing Oneiric Indications"; "Interstitial Network Analyses"; "Semiotic Simplification Project"; and so forth. She touched the "Countervailing Oneiric Indications" label, and another long list showed up, this one consisting entirely of strange symbols. She touched one and got nothing more than charts with additional obscure symbols.<br /><br />She closed out and focused on the left side of the desk. Quite by accident she discovered that moving a graph in a tight circular motion changed the desktop completely. Doing this with the energy use graph led to a desktop filled with real-time energy use reports for different sectors of the station. Unsurprisingly, all sectors were (allowing for minor fluctuations) at standard maintenance levels except for the central sector, where both central command and the Administrator's office were located. Trying to get anything more specific brought up requests for passwords, which were somewhat strange screens consisting of several concentric circles with more of the cryptic symbols and various rows of boxes on each side. She backed out and started experimenting with some of the buttons: this one desensitized the desktop so that it no longer registered touch; this one seemed to bring up an intercom and communication system; this one brought up another password-protected screen, but seemed to be concerned with various administrative functions like menu organization and (Katja supposed) password changes; this one brought up little versions of all the wall monitors on the desk. The once-active monitor was now simply a single symbol, and most of the other monitors were just showing minor functions.<br /><br />"How is everything?" said a voice, and she looked up to see Kubiri's good-humored monkey-face peeking around the edge of the doorway.<br /><br />"I think I am settling in quite nicely. How have you been doing?"<br /><br />"Quite well. The major problem to solve was how to break the password system."<br /><br />"Do you manage to do so?"<br /><br />"Cryptography is an essential diplomatic skill," he replied. "None of it was very difficult, once I had determined how the rest of the system worked. Security systems have to be usable and appropriate to what they guard, so once you know the system in general and who would be using it, the greater part of the work is already done. Once I managed to maneuver around the password protections, I was able to look at the underlying programming language, and it was quite simple from there."<br /><br />"There are some password protected parts of this desk. Could you get around them?"<br /><br />"Almost certainly," he said. "But I was thinking we might make a trip to the kitchens to see what they are like, and then to the ship to bring back any food supplies that would be useful. And, perhaps, have our first meal here in Ohu's Stronghold."<br /><br />"That sounds like an excellent idea," said Katja, rising.<br /><br />The kitchens, at least those nearest the crew quarters, were an entirely unextraordinary affair, consisting of something like a counter or workbench that was set entirely too high, a working sink that was absurdly small, a refrigeration unit that seemed to be broken (there was one for each kitchen, but they all seemed to have long since broken down), and a curious metal box that seemed like a toaster but was far more massive than any toaster Katja had ever seen. It looked dangerous, and Katja resolved immediately not to use it if she ever could avoid it. There was a pantry or pan-closet which was not completely empty; it had a handful of dusty old empty bottles and sixteen sealed plastic cylinders labeled as vinegar, stacked neatly under a low shelf where they were not immediately visible to anyone who looked inside.<br /><br />They went out to the ship and returned loaded with packaged rations that would keep without refrigeration. Carrying it back to the kitchen made it seem like a vast amount, but when it was all piled on the high bench, the size of the pile was disappointing. Katja immediately felt something in her begin to worry about whether they had enough to live on for long. She asked Kubiri his opinion.<br /><br />"A thought I've had," he said. "The ship was well-stocked, so we should be fine for a while; but we will need further provisions from somewhere. The planet is currently blocking any communication with the Portal, but as soon as that changes I will make sure to send word to Sylvenia."<br /><br />They ate some kind of nutrient bar that tasted like cabbage. By this point, Katja was feeling a slow, dull ache just behind her eyes, which felt heavy. She had no idea how long it had been since she last slept, since Syylven tend not to wear timepieces, but it probably would not have mattered. It had been a stressful day. She took leave of Kubiri and went and picked out one of the bedrooms, but before she left the kitchen, she picked up one of the empty bottles that had a lid and a cylinder of vinegar.<br /><br />The next morning, if you can speak of morning in a place that has no day and no night, she rose and prepared for the day as well as she could, washing her hair in diluted vinegar in the hope that it would be better than nothing. The water pressure was much better than it had been before. She put on her one change of clothes, and resolved to look for an Ylfae laundry on the station. Ylfae, she knew, did not run around naked, and even Ylfae must wash their clothes occasionally. She went down to the kitchen to grab another nutrient bar -- this one tasted like bitter tea lightly spiced with pepper -- and set out to find the Samar.<br /><br />She found Kubiri tapping away on his tablet in the anteroom to her office. "How are you?" he said politely. "I managed to reset the password for your desk. Since this software interface seems to use a great many symbols, I created a file with a dictionary of all of them; it is open on your desktop. I think I've fixed the water pressure problem by shutting down one of the pipes; I also had to lock down a hallway, because it had been leaking and made the whole thing an awful swamp. Also, I've sent word to Sylvenia for food rations."<br /><br />"Do you never sleep?" Katja asked, jokingly.<br /><br />"Never," said Kubiri; "the Samar are not a sleep-cycle species."<br /><br />"What do you do for rest, then?"<br /><br />"The same things you do, more or less" said Kubiri, thrusting out his lips slightly. "We just never go unconscious doing it."<br /><br />He showed her how to work the password system. The boxes to each side of the concentric circles changed the symbols on the circles; they had to be pressed in a certain order, and then the circles worked as a combination lock which, when aligned correctly, gave her full acccess to everything. As he was explaining something to her about the system, one of the monitors blinked on with a little noise like a gurgle; she would later learn that this odd sound was the standard sound that the Ylfae used for notifications, much as the Syylven used bell-tones. It was a communication. They read it and then looked at each other.<br /><br />"How long do you think we have?" Katja asked.<br /><br />"Perhaps a day."<br /><br />She sighed. It just never stopped.<br /><br />"Well," she said, "I suppose we should clean up some rooms for the representatives."<br />
<br />
[1771]Brandonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06698839146562734910noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1056706052717983284.post-70232563220472290572012-11-12T13:45:00.003-06:002012-11-12T13:46:09.226-06:001.5 Ohu's Stronghold (I)The automatic docking went smoothly; soon the ship was attached to the axis just under one of the rings and Katja and Kubiri were walking through long empty corridors. There was dust on the floor. There was dust on the little signs in Ylfae on the pale pastel walls. Katja's snowboots gave a muffled echo with each step.<br />
<br />
"We should be able to find out everything we need to know at central command, which I think is this way," Kubiri said, and she followed him. As she reflected on her feelings, she found that she was a bit angry. Here she was, having been ripped up from her life, from her routine, and thrown across a galaxy with such an urgency that she did not even have a change of clothes, for no other purpose than to take control of a station that had obviously been deserted and running on automatic for quite some time. What could possibly have been the purpose of such urgency?<br />
<br />
She tried to set the anger aside as futile, since there was nothing to be done about it now. For the most part she succeeded, although it would occasionally resurface as irritation.<br />
<br />
They passed endless numbers of rooms and cross-corridors. There was a conveyor belt that would ordinarily have moved once one stepped onto it, but the entire system was off. So they walked. And walked. And walked. Everything simply highlighted the sheer size of the station. They then made their way through various rooms and up stairs. They were all lit, but dimly, as if by emergency lights.<br />
<br />
"I will be getting my exercise here," Katja said after they had climbed the third set of stairs.<br />
<br />
"Once we get things turned on, we will no longer have to go these long ways; but when they left, they shut practically everything down -- elevators, conveyors, everything that was not originally designed to continue indefinitely."<br />
<br />
"You know," said Katja, "we are really going to need a better name for this station than '3311543'. Is that the only name it has?"<br />
<br />
"As far as I know. Conceivably the Winbaric gave it another name, but it was not recorded anywhere."<br />
<br />
"Well, then," she said, "as Adminstrator of this station, I hereby designate this station <i>Lin Ohuen</i>, Ohu's Stronghold. In some of the old songs, it was supposed to have rooms filled with good fortune. The honey bees go there to get the good fortune they mix with flower-nectar to make honey."<br />
<br />
"Lin Ohuen it is, then," Kubiri said, pulling open his tablet and tapping it rapidly with his finger. He then closed it. "I have officially noted it," he said. "If anyone tries to give it a different name, you can tell them that the Samar call it Lin Ohuen, too."<br />
<br />
"I'll do that," said Katja. She thought: Well, at least I get to name things.<br />
<br />
They finally made it to the command center. Everything was covered in plastic, which they pulled off. One screen was already working, and Kubiri began to examine it. Katja sat on one of the benches.<br />
<br />
"What I don't understand," said Katja, "is how we are supposed to run this station all on our own. We should have technicians, engineers, security. Did the Tanaver not know that the station was deserted? Did they just forget to tell anyone that an entire crew would be necessary? How am I supposed to run a station singlehandedly? What if something goes wrong?"<br />
<br />
"It is truly a puzzle," said Kubiri, pressing the screen and reading the result. "But you are not single-handed. I doubt it was ever intended to be run by only two people, but it was designed for periods with just a skeleton crew. I think the original idea was to start out with a few people and slowly expand the population on the station. And while the architecture is Ylfae, the systems themselves were clearly designed by a Samar -- simplified, reworked to account for the difference in technology between the Samar and the Ylfae, but there are several indications that it was Samar."<br />
<br />
"Do you know who?"<br />
<br />
"No," said Kubiri. "An engineer might be able to guess based on the design, but it is out of my province. It is definitely Samar, though, and, assuming it was made to specification, I don't think we will have to worry about any serious problems. I can send an inquiry next time I upload to a Portal."<br />
<br />
"There's no harm, and possibly some use, in knowing," said Katja. "What I wonder is why you didn't already know. Surely it would have been mentioned."<br />
<br />
Kubiri looked up from the screen and looked at her thoughtfully for a moment. "My thought exactly."<br />
<br />
"Is there any reason why the Samar High Council would not have told you?"<br />
<br />
"Precisely because they didn't tell me, I am very sure there was a reason. It is possible that no one checked. It is possible that it was a Private Consultation that was never logged. The number of Consulations in the Universes is truly immense, and all Samar are allowed to negotiate Private Consultations as long as they meet certain conditions. It is generally preferred that such Consultations be logged, partly for the protection of the Samar in question, but there's no strict rule. Or it could be some other reason. But it is curious."<br />
<br />
He reached over and flipped a few switches. The whole console came to life. "Ah," he said. "Let's see what we have to work with."<br />
<br />
He pressed one of the consoles, and a screen on the far end of the room sprang to life with the flowing cursive of Ylfae writing. <br />
<br />
Katja rose. "A map of the station." She walked across and looked at it closely. "It looks like the crew quarters are near here. What systems do we have?"<br />
<br />
"At present, little more than basic life support. I think water reclamation is working, as well. As for anything else, I think it will take me some time to figure out the rest of this system, which seems rather old and quirky. At present I've figured out almost nothing beyond its basic Ask and Tell functions -- we can get information and upload information, but anything else is a bit beyond us."<br />
<br />
"Do you think you will be able to get everything online?"<br />
<br />
"Almost certainly," he said. "It's not a complicated system, just somewhat oddly designed." He thrust out his lips in a Samar smile. "I think it is some Ylfae notion of what a user-friendly system would be -- it keeps trying to do things for me that are completely inconsistent with what I actually need it to do. I will need a few hours, I think."<br />
<br />
"I think I will tour some of these crew quarters and see what shape they are in. The last thing I want to have to do tonight is fall asleep in a pile of dust."<br />
<br />
Kubiri nodded and Katja set out. For all that it was a very simple thing to do, no more than walking around to see what things were like, it felt strangely good, and after a short while she suddenly realized what it was. It was the first thing she had done since she left home that was actually in her power. In this small little action, she was taking some control of a life that seemed to have been spinning entirely out of control. She was, at that moment, in one small way, not just a log bobbing along in a current. She was an agent in her own right, able to make her own decisions and do her own work.Brandonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06698839146562734910noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1056706052717983284.post-81530807821586276822012-11-10T23:40:00.001-06:002012-11-10T23:40:30.674-06:001.4 City in Heaven (II)They went through a door at the end of the room, which turned out not to be solid, as Katja had expected it would be: it was actually a fine mesh, very stiff and sturdy, but very thin. It made sense, Katja thought; should something happen to the power you would not want a heavy sliding door.<br /><br />Beyond the door was a cockpit, quite small. There were benches with backs. The main controls were simply a touchscreen across the entire front, although to the sides there were various controls with switches, buttons, and dials. Auxiliaries or backups, perhaps. Above the main controls was a viewing screen of some kind; Katja did not know whether it was an actual window or merely a video screen, but it showed a deep black sky with endless stars. The viewing conditions on Sylvenia were exceptionally good. There was little light pollution, and the air was quite clean and clear, but it was nothing like this view. The stars were bright and clear and overwhelmingly many. We speak facilely of jewels in the sky, but jewels do not shine so beautifully; the stars are not diamonds, but something far more pure in light. And although Katja knew that there stars beyond anything she could see, it was impossible to shake the feeling that they were all there, every single one.<br /><br />Kubiri went over to the controls and touched a few. "We are not oriented quite right to see it, but we can easily fix that." He pressed other parts of the touchscreen, then sat down on one of the benches and crossed his legs under him. It made him look a bit like a large child's doll, with a caftan like a blanket flowing down and a fedora over his furry face, cocked carefully to the side. Katja sat on the other end of the bench, at a diagonal where she could face both Kubiri and the front screen.<br /><br />"How many times have you been through a Portal?" she asked.<br /><br />He considered this a moment, then waved his palms at her. "I am not sure I could ever say. On this tour alone I must have passed through several dozen. They blur together after a while, like scenery that passes by too quickly." Then he pointed. "There it is; I sent a request that it be illuminated, so that you could see it clearly."<br /><br />The Portal was, strangely enough, both extremely impressive and extraordinarily disappointing. On the one hand, it was vast. The lights traced out a massive pair of brackets against the sky, parentheses of light written on a star-studded page, growing slowly larger. It was like the skeleton of a massive tunnel, with great, glittering coils serving on each side as the spine of a large ribcage. As a feat of engineering, it was undeniably impressive.<br /><br />Nonetheless, it was also undeniably disappointing. Katja had not really thought of what a Portal must look like, but now that she thought of it, she had probably expected a great circle of light. Or, perhaps, even something more crude: a Portal was a doorway in space, and perhaps somewhere deep inside one expected the ultimately absurdity of something recognizable as literally a doorway, in space. Whoever knows what underlies everything in their expectations? Whatever the explanation, she felt let down.<br /><br />The ship took a position between the two brackets. The star field strangely blurred; already crowded with stars, it seemed suddenly to have even more, all crowding each other out. Then it was just a star field again, but something about it seemed not quite right. Then the ship moved out of the brackets.<br /><br />Katja felt let down once again. What do you expect from something that sends you across the galaxy all at once? Certainly not just a second-long shift of the sky as you stand still.<br /><br />"Is that it?" she said.<br /><br />"That is it. It is a small thing, isn't it? But if the only time you have been out of the Sylvenian system was a trip to Metsenia, that small thing has taken you on a trip two thousand times farther."<br /><br />Katja did not know how she felt about that. She decided not to think about it. "So we have a long trip to the station?"<br /><br />"Yes, but it is much shorter than the trip from Sylvenia to the Sylvenian Portal -- less mass in the system in a less complicated configuration, and the station is much farther out in the system. If you would like some more sleep, however, there is time enough for it."<br /><br />She looked out at the stars a long moment. "What else do you know about the station?"<br /><br />"Almost nothing. I was given very little more than you were. I know that the station orbits a gas giant; my guess, very much a guess, would be that it is about two thousand to three thousand light-seconds from the star. But beyond that I know very little."<br /><br />"Well," said Katja. "I suppose there are other things I need to know, about the Ylfae and how to negotiate with them."<br /><br />"Ah,"said Kubiri, thrusting out his lips. "On that score I can give you much more."<br /><br />They talked for some time about Ylfae physiology and various negotiations involving the Ylfae in which Kubiri had been a consultant.<br /><br />"Unfortunately," he said, "most of my experience is with matters of production and distribution. While one cannot ignore culture on such matters, it tends to be relatively straightforward. This is particularly true with the Ylfae, in which you are really negotiating only with a family and therefore generally need only attend to the family's internal dynamics. With this, however, we get into the very tangled region of relations among different families, clans, and tribes."<br /><br />At one point they had a very small meal in the other room. But as they approached the station, they went forward to see it.<br /><br />At first they saw only the great gas giant, massive and swirling with red and orange. But then the station came in view.<br /><br />It was a tree-like thin with wings, flying in a void. An axis soared upward and downward through the middle. Three pairs of panels, like solar panels, branched off like wings from this trunk; two were on top, one on the bottom. Around the central axis or trunk grew two great rings, like wheels with spokes. The top ring was larger and thicker than the other. Various minor protuberances decorated the trunk.<br /><br />"It is immense,"said Katja. "A city in heaven." Her heart sank somewhat at the very size of the station; administering it would be an endlessly complicated problem.<br /><br />"An abandoned city in heaven," replied Kubiri. "The automatic systems are working, but there is no one here."<br /><br />"Can we get aboard safely?"<br /><br />"Yes," he replied, tapping the main controls several different places in succession. "The docking and living sysems are all operational and, according to these readings, are working perfectly. The station itself is our welcoming party."<br />
<br />
[1168]Brandonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06698839146562734910noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1056706052717983284.post-73439153613231874422012-11-09T19:31:00.002-06:002012-11-09T20:36:45.413-06:001.4 City in Heaven (I)After lunch, Katja made use of the washroom; fortunately, Ylfae physiology is similar enough to Sylven physiology that there was no perplexity. Afterward she stared at herself in the mirror and was surprised at how tired she looked. Weary. She looked like someone who had been traveling forever; or, rather, she looked like what she was: someone whisked away on a journey without any preparation. She looked down at herself with something like humor and something like sorrow: her clothes were not what she would have worn for a journey among the stars. She doubted it would be snowing on Station 33115, but here she was with long sleeves and boots for walking in the snow; a fur-lined black coat for which there was no foreseeable use was in the next room. Nor was it a color to be chosen if you had only one set of clothes to choose: except for the coat and her belt, it was all a matching cream color. As she brushed off a hair, she thought, "This will look awful even by tomorrow."<br />
<br />
Tomorrow. Were there tomorrows in space? Obviously time went on in some way, but space itself was a tomorrowless realm, ungoverned by the cycles that mind and body felt as time. Out among the stars she might as well have been traveling forever. She sighed and splashed some water on her face.<br />
<br />
"I think I need a nap," she said when she had rejoined Kubiri. "Today seems like it has gone on forever."<br />
<br />
"Of course," said Kubiri. "I should have considered that possibility earlier; I apologize. By all means. I have plenty to occupy my time with various Private Consultations; and if you require anything at all, please let me know."<br />
<br />
She stretched out on a padded bench. It was not the most comfortable thing, by any means, and she worried that she would not be able to get to sleep. But her worries came to nothing; she really was as tired as she had looked, and it was not long before she was deeply asleep and dreaming.<br />
<br />
She was in a closed room with white walls and nothing else. There was some voice whispering, although she could not understand it well. She thought she caught a fragment, though: <i>Right roads may lead through gates of death</i>. Then the whole room seemed to fall away and she was standing in a sort of vineyard. The sun was shining brightly on her face, warming it; the breeze at the same time was lightly blowing against her face, cooling it. There was a scent in the air like fine wine, a scent like fruit but sharper and more clear, and there was beneath this the scent of dry earth newly wetted, like the soil giving out a shout of relief after long drought. It was very vivid; it was very real.<br />
<br />
She turned and saw the Vine God standing there, unclothed except for panther skin around his waste and a crown of vine leaves in his hear. He seemed Sylven, and yet more than Sylven, too real to be merely Sylven. There was an enigmatic smile on his dark face, a strange mockery in his dark black eyes.<br />
<br />
"Who are you?" she asked.<br />
<br />
He laughed and then seemed to speak, but what came out of his mouth was not words. Or, rather, they were words, but words too powerful for her mind to comprehend. They did not merely move through the air; they beat into her brain, they hovered in the air like something tangible. They did not merely resound. They <i>burned</i>, and set the entire vineyard on fire.<br />
<br />
All around her the fire raged, leaping up vines, crackling and popping, sending up smoke. The scent of the air, wine-thick, became smoke-thick; it clung to her as only smoke can cling, to her clothing, to her hair, to her skin. But the fire did not burn her. Everything else burned, but she did not burn. And the fire rose up and up until it began to burn the sky, turning cerulean blue to midnight black. Like flame across paper the fire swept across the blue sky, and when it touched the sun, it seemed to break through some spherical wall that held the fire of the sun in. The liquid gold of solar fire was spilled out, mingling with the dark, in comparison almost opaque, red-orange of the vineyard flame. Then it all was over. With nothing left to burn, the flame died out; the light of the sun was gone, the blue of the sky was gone, the earth and vines were gone, leaving nothing but darkness and the breeze. The breeze, once merely cool, was now cold.<br />
<br />
It seemed silent a moment. She could hear nothing but her heart beating in her chest and her ears. Gradually, however, she began to hear something. At first she thought it was some kind of windchime, but as it grew, it became unmistakeable: water. A diffuse silver light began to surround her. She was in the middle of a white mist. As the light grew brighter the mist seemed to recede and she could see where she was. She was beside a great pool of water with mist rising from it. There was a very light rain, scarcely more than a mist itself. She stood beneath a great tree with sweeping, drooping branches, full of little leaves dripping water into the pool and on the earth. A large moon, far larger than the small moon of Sylvenia, was high in the sky, and its light made a rippling pathway on the surface of the pool. Everything was colored in shades of black, and blue-black, and silver-white.<br />
<br />
She stood a while, feeling the mist and rain on her skin and listening to the dripping and rippling of water. She soon began to realize, however, that there was another sound mixed in with the water-sounds. It, too, was a water-sound, but of a different kind. It was the sound of weeping. She looked around for the source and saw, a short distance away, a woman at the edge of the pool. She was lit in an unearthly way by the light of the moon. She was looking into the pool.<br />
<br />
As Katja approached, she looked up. Tears were pouring down her face in little streams.<br />
<br />
"Who are you?" Katja asked.<br />
<br />
The Weeping Woman opened her mouth to speak, but, as with the Vine God, the words she spoke could not be understood, and were not sounds but actions. They beat into Katja's brain, wreathed around her like mist, and made everything seem as unstable and rippling as water. Then, suddenly, the whole world tipped over and she was not above the surface of the water but below it, staring up at the massive moon. When she tried to swim to the surface, the surface became even farther away. Her breath slowly ran out; as it did she began to struggle. The pain in her chest had become unbearable when a great hand, of chrome or highly polished steel, broke the surface of the water and reached down toward her.<br />
<br />
She was suddenly awake, sitting straight up, breathing as heavily as if she had just come up from the pool. A little way away sat Kubiri, a tablet in one hand and a stylus in another, watching her closely.<br />
<br />
"Do you need any assistance?" he asked.<br />
<br />
"No," said Katja as soon as she had caught her breath. "It was just a dream."<br />
<br />
"Of course," Kubiri said. "I keep forgetting." Before she could ask him what he kept forgetting, he had attached the stylus to the tablet and then pushed the two ends together. Katja suddenly realized that the 'sticks' that Kubiri kept attached to his wrist with a cord were actually a stylus and some kind of collapsible tablet.<br />
<br />
"You slept quite some time," he said. "We are not quite to the Portal, but when we reach it, do you want to see it?"<br />
<br />
"I would like that," Katja said. "I've been through it once, but didn't see it then."<br />
<br />
"Then we will certainly remedy that. We still have some time to go, however."<br />
<br />
Katja sighed. "One of the things I hated about space last time was how long it took to get anywhere. I was born and raised on a little island; even trips to the field would be only a few hours. But these trips in space go on and on."<br />
<br />
"A necessary limitation of acceleration and deceleration, I am afraid."<br />
<br />
"It is amazing. Seven Universes and not one civilization can manage to shorten trips through space."<br />
<br />
"Well," said Kubiri, "that is not precisely true. There are the Portals themselves, of course; they just require prohibitive amounts of energy if they are too far down a gravity well. And Samar ships, for instance, can go anywhere in a universe instantaneously. The limitations are only if you have to accelerate to get somewhere."<br />
<br />
"How is that even possible?"<br />
<br />
He waved with both hands at her -- this waving of palms seemed to be the Samar equivalent of a shrug. "I am no engineer. I probably could not even follow the mathematics, since I was never any good beyond dynamic mereotopology." Katja did not recognize the phrase but could guess from the roots that it had something to do with changes and parts. "And I am also always in the field in civilized territory, and it is custom in such cases to use the local transportation, as we are doing. Some species like to move around as swiftly as possible, but we Samar tend to be more restrained. There is an old Samariska saying that in Simplified Samar might be translated as 'Rushing things is breaking things.'"<br />
<br />
They chatted about different things until a tone sounded.<br />
<br />
"Ah!" said Kubiri. "The Portal should be visible from the cockpit. Shall we go see?"<br />
<br />
[1654] Brandonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06698839146562734910noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1056706052717983284.post-79701504819132371912012-11-08T23:50:00.001-06:002012-11-08T23:50:18.481-06:001.3 Conversation over Lunch (II)Kubiri took yet another helping of salad and fruit as the Ylfae steward brought out soup cups with lids for sipping; he seemed to eat an extraordinary amount for his size, certainly more than Katja. "In any case," he said, "it is fruitless to speculate about the general situation until we've seen the station itself, and had further exposure to the concerns of the parties involved. We lack the information that would be required for reasonable simulation, and excessive prejudgment spoils negotiation." He took one of the soup cups and sipped.<br /><br />"I have not had this before," he said. "Malate-based."<br /><br />Katja took a sip of one and could not stop herself from making a face. It was extremely sour. Kubiri's lips pushed forward in what was almost certainly the Samar version of a smile.<br /><br />"If you do not like anything, please do not feel you need to eat it," he said. "The cuisine here is Ylfae, and while they were given strict instructions to guarantee that all the food would be compatible with Sylven physiology, edibility eludes measure in ways compatibility does not."<br /><br />"The taste is not bad," said Katja. "It reminds me a bit of a sour fruit pastry, if one left out much of the sweetener. It is just too strong." <br /><br />She set it aside. "I would imagine that you have been faced with 'compatible but not edible' quite often, traveling the Universes."<br /><br />"I have usually found that I could eat most of what was set before me," he replied. "But I work almost entirely with species that have an ylfoid physiology, like yourself; ylfoids are one kind of secondary samaroid, and it is generally the case that such species are more delicate in matters of food than primary samaroids are. But you get peculiarities at the margins." He adjusted his fedora slightly. "I was once negotiating an economic treaty for an ylfoid species whose primary condiment was petrolatum. They made everything with it. My breads came buttered with petroleum jelly. My salads came tossed with mineral oil. And nothing I could do could get them to leave it off. They would reduce the amount, but it was always there. Even asking that the food be given to me raw did no good; if you wanted something served as food, you put petrolatum on it, and they could not more imagine that something might be eaten completely without petrolatum than they could imagine turning into reptiles. I was very glad to finish that negotiation."<br /><br />He told the story with much animation, his monkey-like face allowing for a much greater degree of animation than a Sylven could probably have managed, and had Katja laughing almost immediately. It felt good to laugh. She had been torn from the routine of life and hurled without ceremony out among the stars to a future that was even more obscure than futures usually are. She had not understood how much worry had been locked inside her chest and abdomen until it came loose with the laugh.<br /><br />"Of course," said Kubiri, "other Samar often must deal with more exotic situations in their Consultations than I do; people who consult with Involescence, for instance, or who do first contact. My work is generally quite routine."<br /><br />The steward brought out some samples of a strange polyp-looking thing, ugly gray and smelling like rusty metal. Katja passed, but Kubiri took two.<br /><br />"What is it that you do?"<br /><br />"I consult on economic and diplomatic matters -- usually the intersection of both, although other things do come up. I was finishing a Samar Consultation in another galaxy in this universe when I received the directive for this Consultation. That one was concerned with improving Ylfae relations with one of their Ward territories. They tend not to grasp that merely being juxtaposed to a more resource-rich society is detrimental to less resource-rich societies unless active cooperative steps are taken to make clear the worth and beauty of the latter. The Ylfae may want to be a Core Protectorate someday, but there is much they still need to learn about cooperative equilibria under real-world conditions." <br /><br />He finished his polyps, then said, "I was told very little about you, I am afraid. You mentioned that you write and translate reports. On what do you report?"<br /><br />"I work for the Ecological Institute of the University of Sylvenia, and I mostly collate information about glaciation and make sure that the reports for my division are translated correctly."<br /><br />"Important work."<br /><br />"Not at all," Katja replied. "I do nothing original; I just check for errors make the information more widely available."<br /><br />"It depends on the information," Kubiri said, shaking his head in an almost Sylven way, "but establishing and maintaining correspondence networks is of extraordinary importance, and there are Samar whose careers are largely devoted to developing such things. I tend to do work with infrastructure and the flow of material resources, but even I once consulted on a problem whose most elegant solution consisted of establishing a center for the translation of texts. The only question of importance is whether your work is beautiful work -- useful, crafted well, elegant, illuminating, coherent." He looked at her with something like a twinkle in his eye. "What do you know of the Samar?"<br /><br />"Not much beyond the fact that you are one of the Core Protectorates, I'm afraid," Katja replied. "That is to say, no more than anyone else does. Or at least any Syylven."<br /><br />"We do not, like the Ylfae, span galaxies and Universes in uncountable numbers; we are a small Protectorate in Universe Two. There are perhaps a hundred twenty billion of us, most of us spread out very thinly doing the work of the Alliance over six of the seven Universes. Hardly more than a drop in an ocean. But it does not matter. We seek what is beautiful, and we seek to do what is beautiful. There is a Samar proverb: 'Harmonies are infinitely diverse; regardless of the situation at least one is worth singing'. We are a Core Protectorate, and one of the great powers of the Seven Universes, not because we do grand and flashy things, but because we pursue beauty in all things. That is what matters. That is what is important."<br /><br />Remembering the plaque in the Commissioner's office (how long ago it seemed, although it was only this morning!), Katja quoted, "<i>...every part lovely and full of use</i>."<br /><br />Kubiri pursed his lips, which gave his monkey-like face a humorous tenor. "Truly. Is that a quotation?"<br /><br />"From the <i>Sylevid</i>," she said. "It is a description of the House of Minne, the palace of wonders; Minne was the sister of the ancestress of my people, and it is said she was a great artisan who spent her days making beautiful things."<br /><br />"Then she lived with Samar soul."<br /><br />Dessert came, a kind of minty foam, and conversation turned to other things: the story of the <i>Sylevid</i>, the songs of the <i>Venahana</i>, Samar singing (it was apparently a major part of the culture, with males singing to woo females: "We are a singing people," said Kubiri, "but the males sing with both lower and higher registers than the females"), and more.<br />
<br />
[1198]Brandonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06698839146562734910noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1056706052717983284.post-59729050755168091892012-11-05T22:37:00.000-06:002012-11-08T23:53:27.970-06:001.3 Conversation over Lunch (I)The Ylfae ship was not much different in layout from an apartment; there was living space, with benches and a sort of couch, and small private rooms to the side, although they were too small for beds, and a place with a long low table and mats on the side, which she guessed was for eating. There was nothing quite like a chair, leading Katja to wonder if the Ylfae even had chairs. They had to strap down, for safety reasons, when detaching from Highpoint Station, and to do that they had to sit on narrow benches attached to the wall. They were very uncomfortable.<br />
<br />
After the ship was detached and on its way a robotic steward began setting the table with dishes, chopsticks, and sharp skewers. Everything had a lid, and was designed so that the lid automatically closed if you did not physically keep it open. The ship had a simulacrum of gravity deriving from spinning wheels fore and aft, and on the failure of one, the other should compensate for it. The failure of both was surely a very unlikely event. But weightless food is an unmanageable mess.<br />
<br />
As they sat at the table and waited for the meal, Katja asked Kubiri if he knew anything about the station to which she had been assigned.<br />
<br />
He considered a moment. "What do you know about the Ylfae?"<br />
<br />
"Not much. I can read and write the language. I would recognize one, because I have seen pictures. I know that the Sylvenian systems are a Ward of the Ylfae under the Alliance Charter." She remembered what she had read in the elevator, and the Commissioner's comment. "The Sylvenian Commissioners are currently in some sort of trade negotiation with the Ylfae, and it is not going well. Beyond that, not much."<br />
<br />
"The Ylfae, like the Syylven, are a single-species society. They are tribal and clannish. The primary unit of most of their social, economic, and political structures is the family. If you want to hire someone to perform a task, it is considered extremely offensive to try to hire an individual by himself; you hire an entire family to do the work, and then the family distributes the tasks as they see fit. They elect their governments, but they do so by electing families rather than individuals. They venerate their ancestors.<br />
<br />
"Every family is part of a clan, every clan part of a tribe. There are seven tribes, each with hundreds of thousands of clans. According to Ylfae legend, they are not native to the Seven Universes. They were once a powerful star system in another universe, passionately devoted to scientific research, and utterly unscrupulous; they used other civilizations as experimental subjects and made many enemies. However, during an important solar energy experiment, their power came to an abrupt end when their sun went nova for unknown reasons. It would take considerable technological sophistication to induce a stellar nova, but the Ylfae insist that it was sabotage. All the Ylfae in their home system were killed, and an alliance of opposing systems attacked the rest. This went on until at last only one starship was left, with five hundred individuals aboard. These were found and given a new homeworld by the Tanaver, on condition that they would also receive the gift of intense empathy. All seven tribes, they say, descend from those five hundred individuals."<br />
<br />
"Is that true?"<br />
<br />
Kubiri put both his hands in the air and waved his palms. "It is the story that the Ylfae themselves tell, anyway. When the Samar first came across the Ylfae, they had already spread across the greater part of a galactic supercluster. Their actual origins are lost in the mists of time. The Tanaver would know, but would likely never tell even us. For a civilization, especially such an ambitious civilization as the Ylfae, to assign itself such an unflattering origin would require a special cause, however, so there may well be a kernel of truth in it. <br />
<br />
"Every Ylfae tribe is quite different, however. All species exhibit variation, but some species more than others. The Syylven, for instance, are a relatively uniform. The Ylfae are quite diverse, and while Ylfae from different tribes can have non-sterile offspring, the chances of it are massively less than between Ylfae of the same tribe. So perhaps we should say they are a single-species society slowly becoming a society of seven species. The overwhelming majority of Ylfae in this galaxy are Taladac, and when your Commissioners talk about trade treaties with the Ylfae, they are really talking about trade contracts with local Taladac clans. The Ylfae as a whole have a largely symbolic and ceremonial government that is run by the Remoal tribe, but the rest of their government simply consists of negotiations among clans, which are done by families elected by each clan for that purpose. For practical purposes the Syylven are Wards of these Taladac clans, who are supposed to protect you from the predation of pirates, assist you in negotiation with other societies, and prepare you for the day when you, too, become a full Protectorate of the Tanaver. However, not all the Ylfae in this galaxy are Taladac. There are some scattered Tura clans, as well. Why they are both found in this one galaxy is something of a mystery, there are plenty of galaxies in the universes, and the Tura and Taladac tribes have a long history of poor relations. One of the Tura clans is the Winbaric, who control a few systems and were at some point given jurisdiction, directly by the Tanaver, of a particular system on the condition that they build and maintain a space station there, which for Portal-directory purposes was given the label Station 3311534. I have looked it up. There is almost no information available about it. The Winbaric seem to have done very little with it, or, at least, very little that has left any easily accessible record. I expect the Winbaric to protest the Tanaver directive. This will put the local Taladac clans in a very uncomfortable position; by Ylfae governing conventions, they are the governing authority for all Ylfae in the area, they will be required to oversee the resolution of the dispute. Relations with the local Tura clans are quite strained, and they certainly do not want to strain them more. On the other hand, as they have guardianship responsibilities for the Syylven, they are required by the Charter to guarantee a solution that benefits the Syylven, or they will be in danger of being investigated by the Samar for Charter violations. And the Ylfae in general dream of being a Core Protectorate one day; while they technically have the right to overrule the Tanaver directive, the local clans will be very hesitant to contradict the Tanaver, for fear of being condemned for it by other clans."<br />
<br />
At this point the steward brought in the first course (fruits and salad, mostly), and they started eating. After ruminating for a moment, Katja said, "This sounds like it is a very complex and delicate situation. I am not qualified to handle anything like this. I just collate data, write up reports, and translate them. Why did the Tanaver insist that I become the Station Administrator?"<br />
<br />
Kubiri put down his chopsticks and waved his palms again. "Who knows what the Tanaver are ever thinking? I could speculate, but it would be guessing in the dark. It is not even clear why they removed jurisdiction from the Winbaric in the first place. The terms of the original assignment to the Winbaric were quite vague: they should build a space station in the system and maintain it. Since the Winbaric did build it, I assume that the Tanaver would maintain that, whatever the Winbaric did, it did not count as maintaining the station. The Tanaver have certain special privileges, but the Alliance Charter clearly lists what the Tanaver can and cannot do. In all matters not immediately pertaining to the establishment of Oracles and Portals, original assignment of systems, Protectorate status, certain kinds of unresolvable dispute among the Core Protectorates, or protection of the Universes, the Tanaver must work indirectly through the Core Protectorates or by voluntary cooperation. Ordinary reassignment of systems among samaroid species like the Ylfae and the Syylven is entirely the province of the Samar, and even we are required to have proper negotiations. So the only legal ground available is for them to say that the jurisdiction was granted on a condition that the Winbaric violated. None of this explains why it was then turned over to the Syylven or why you were chosen in particular." He picked up his chopsticks and helped himself to some salad.<br />
<br />
"Have the Tanaver ever violated the Charter, and if they did what would happen?"<br />
<br />
"To my knowledge, no, although there have been occasional disputes. The Charter is quite clear that the authority for resolving any disputes between the Tanaver and other parties belongs to the relevant Protectorate government, or, if the other party is a Protectorate, to the Core Protectorates, who form the court of final appeal on all matters relating to the Charter."<br />
<br />
There was a pause in the conversation as more food came out, this time soup.<br />
<br />
[1543]Brandonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06698839146562734910noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1056706052717983284.post-44318061332269502602012-11-04T21:06:00.002-06:002012-11-04T21:06:47.010-06:001.2 This Darkest Sea (II)Thus it was that Katja found herself on a train racing south at top speed through the sea-tunnel to the Southern Launchpointt, her mind in a complete uproar at the suddenness of the change thrust upon her. There was also little to help; she was alone in a railcar that would take several hours to reach the Launchpoint, with nothing, absolutely nothing, but the clothes she wore. And from there she would be launched into space, and then connect with Highpoint, and then to the Sylvenian Portal, and then off she would go to who knows where.<br /><br />Katja had been off the planet once in her entire life. An older friend of hers had been an invited speaker for a conference on vulcanology, and had invited her along. Linne Molmostoven, her name had been; a spry old woman with a laugh like a crystal bell. They had started far earlier in the morning than Katja had, and after the hours to Launchpoint, then the hours to the Portal, then the hours to Metsenia's counterpart to Highpoint station and then to the surface, she had already felt like she had been gone from home too long. They had slept twice on the trip there alone, and once on the trip back (but that had felt long, very long indeed). But at least then she had been fully packed and prepared to go, not thrust on the trip.<br /><br /><i>Farewell, alas, my noble island;<br />farewell, my richly rain-blessed grassland....</i><br /><br />She had not liked the launch; it was like a train-ride off a cliff. They boarded the shuttle at Launchpoint. It was in a vacuum tube tunneled through leagues upon leagues of the Southern Ice Fields, lined with rails of aluminum, or something like them. Superconducting magnets on the shuttle accelerated them slowly through the tube, pushing faster and faster and faster until the tunnel ended and they were moving through the air with extraordinary speed. They had been strapped into seats with a sort of padded bar that locked down around them, and there was a great feeling of weight and pressure, and some turbulence, and then suddenly calm and a release of all the weight. The shuttle then began to spin and the weight came back, but more normally this time. She did not like it at all, and the next dream she had, as she slept on the way to the Sylvenian Portal, had been a nightmare about being shot out of a cannon and crashing down into the ice.<br /><br />She got out of her seat and started pacing the car. Thinking about this was merely making matters worse. She needed to get her mind off it all. She thought of the plaque in the Commissioner's office, and started thinking about that. It was from the opening poem of the <i>Sylevid</i>, the one with the heading, "The poem makes itself to begin," but which was usually called the <i>Amenetaar</i>. And it started -- here she was stubbornly insisting on thinking of it and not about her situation or destination -- it started with the words:<br /><br /><i>The new light is breaking on my thought,<br />sunrise-like upon a living sky<br />the words of song are forming swiftly<br />to speak of kith and kin with bright voice.<br />Shall poet speak,<br />shall song be sung without the sun's flame?</i><br /><br />She continued it, reciting it all silently to herself, to the end:<br /><br /><i>...they roamed on sea, on land, through forests,<br />beneath strange skies and on strange stones,<br />to find a homeland and a people,<br />to star-lands bright of which singers sing<br />and poets speak.</i><br /><br />The ending of it reminded her too much of her situation, so she forced herself to the next poem, the <i>Siimet</i>, with the heading, "The poem makes itself to send forth shoots":<br /><br /><i>Sylve in star-lands made her dwelling,<br />Linne was with her; they plowed the fields,<br />they planted grain and tended cattle,<br />they sang their songs beside the hearthfire<br />and lived in peace.</i><br /><br />And then on she went, through the story of how Sylve rejected the suit of the Sun and the Moon but accepted that of the Star of the North, and how Linne married the shy but joyful Helvi, and the adventures that they had thereafter. And, although her memory started giving out on her (it had, after all been years since she had recited the whole thing), she recited what she could remember of the tale of the kidnapping of Linne, and how the Helivid and the Sylevid, their children, had rescued her, and how they were rivals for the hand of the Maiden of Snows, and how the Sylevid won her hand. And then -- at this point her memory was very sketchy, and most of what she could do was merely tell the basic story in prose abstract -- their wedding. And then how Minne, the eldest of the three sisters, had conceived the idea for a mill of wondrous ability, <br /><br /><i>its bright lid made from the serpent's quill,<br />from the noise the cat makes with its feet,<br />from the tufts of the summer ewe's full down</i>,<br /><br />which could grind out prosperity, gold, salt, or anything else one could wish. And then how it was stolen and broken. The story of the wondrous mill she could again mostly recite; she had always found it more interesting than the wedding parts, which were, frankly, somewhat boring, consisting of pointless tasks, since none of the ancient heroes could ever marry, it seems, without having done endlessly many pointless tasks, and long speeches consisting of somewhat dubious and sometimes utterly fantastic advice from relatives, not all of which were entirely free of double entendre. And she recited as much as she could of the tragic story of how the Sylevid's wife had died and how he, with Sylve's advice, journeyed to the realms of Death to bring her back, and how he nearly succeeded but lost her again at the last moment. And then how, despite his grief, he restored the sun and moon to their rightful places.<br /><br />It all made the time go faster, and steadied her wonderfully; she might leave the earth but home she took with her.<br /><br />They reached Launchpoint, and she was bustled into the shuttle. It seemed less bad than last time. There was much to think about, but somehow the only thing she could think about as she was shot into space was that she had promised Darre that she would take a box of vegetables next week and now there was nobody to receive them.<br /><br />When she arrived at Highpoint Station she felt like she had already traveled much too far, and she was not looking forward to the even longer trip to the Sylvenian Portal. But all such thoughts vanished away when she reached the viewing port and gasped. Down below, beautiful as a gem, was Sylvenia, white at the top and bottom (but 'white' did not quite describe the brilliantly glowing purity she saw) with a wide band of blue, brown, and green around its middle. As a diamond is put on black velvet, so the gem of Sylvenia had been laid on a black velvet sky, which it shared with the diamond-dust of the stars. It was remarkable.<br /><br />"Pardon me," said a beautiful voice behind her. "But are you Katja Ilkaiomenen?"<br /><br />She turned and gasped again, because the speaker was undoubtedly a Samar, although he had spoken to her in flawless Sylvenian. He was about a head shorter than Katja, and wore a brightly colored caftan. He had a hat on his head that looked remarkably like a fedora, tipped at an angle toward his right. Some sort of stick was attached to his wrist with a cord. And he looked exactly like a gray-furred monkey, although he stood more straight-backed and square-shouldered than you would expect a monkey to stand, although his large eyes, brown with gold flecks, showed not just the cleverness a monkey's eyes would have, but something more that Katja could not quite define. Incongruously, something about their expression reminded her again of old Linne Molmostoven.<br /><br />"I am sorry to bother you," he said again. "But I am waiting for Katja Ilkaiomenen, and I was told you might be her." Again, the voice was beautiful, soft and gentle with subtle tones to it that made it sound somehow more real than a Sylven voice. And again the Sylvenian was perfect, the pronunciation more rigorously correct than Katja's own, perhaps, each word precisely enunciated, but fluently rather than stiffly as you would expect from someone who was not a native speaker. Katja knew someone who did audio voiceovers for documentaries; he spoke the language like that, clearly and smoothly.<br /><br />"I am Katja Ilkaiomenen," she said at last.<br /><br />"Excellent," he said cheerfully. Katja had no reason to think that Samar voice-tones conveyed the same information as Sylven voice-tones, but it was simply impossible not to interpret the tone of his voice as cheerful. "I am --" and then followed a noise, beginning with something that sounded like <i>Enkubiranandajamvi</i> and after that involving so many unpronounceable sounds that went on for so long that she had difficulty believing that it could possibly be a name. But apparently it was, for he ended, "-- but you can call me Kubiri. The Tanaver requested a Consultant for you, and I was assigned by the Samar High Council. I apologize for not meeting you at once, but I had not expected you so soon and, most embarrassingly, was in the middle of a Private Consultation that could not be stopped immediately. I hope you will not take my lapse to reflect on either the Tanaver or the Samar High Council; it was entirely my own fault. You may be assured that as a Tanaver Consultation, you take absolute precedence over any other Consultation, and if you feel that I am failing in this regard, you may at any point make a complaint to the Samar High Council and get a replacement."<br /><br />"There is no need to apologize," she said. "I did not know I would be arriving so quickly, either. They sent me off almost immediately, with no time even to pack, as soon as they heard you were here."<br /><br />Something Katja could not quite interpret passed over his face. "On the contrary," he said, "it seems I must apologize twice, since it is due to me that you have been so unceremoniously rushed here. That was most inappropriate; I am at your disposal, not you at mine. If you wish, I can request that the High Council send a formal rebuke."<br /><br />"No, no," said Katja hastily, suddenly worried that she might have gotten her entire nation into some kind of trouble with the Samar. "That will not be necessary. I think they were simply caught by surprise."<br /><br />Kubiri pursed his lips. "These events have indeed happened swiftly." He looked at her a moment. "I apologize," he said, "but I am not familiar with Sylven eating cycles. Would you like something to eat?"<br /><br />"Yes," said Katja, with something like relief. "I would very much like something to eat."<br /><br />"I will make sure that we have a meal, then, as soon as we leave this station." He grabbed the handle of something that looked like a wheeled metal suitcase, with beautiful vine tracery over it, on top of which was strapped a box, and directed toward the door at the other end of the room.<br /><br />"I understand you speak Simplified Samar fluently?" he said after a moment. "Would it be acceptable if we spoke in that language? I am not very comfortable with Sylvenian."<br /><br />"Of course," Katja said. Then in Simplified Samar: "You speak Sylvenian very well."<br /><br />"I thank you," he said in the same language. "I only had a few hours to learn it. Under such circumstances one always worries about causing an interstellar incident by saying something in just the wrong way at just the wrong time. There is an old Samariska proverb -- Samariska is the Samar dialect that has the least in common with Simplified Samar, so it is difficult to translate into Simplified form -- that says, more or less, 'When the thing can explode, it probably will.'" His lips thrust out into something like a four-cornered grin. "I can be far more sure of what is explosive and what is not in Simplified Samar." The grin suddenly vanished. "You said that you had had no time to pack. Am I to understand that you have no necessities, no further change of clothes, nothing but what you are currently wearing."<br /><br />When Katja said this was true, he muttered something under his breath. It was not in Simplified Samar, but in some other version of Samar, with a much wider range of phonemes; but she recognized some of the roots, and guessed that he was repeating that it was most inappropriate.<br /><br />They boarded the ship, which detached from Highpoint and set out toward the Portal. The verse from the <i>Venahana</i> came back to Katja as she settled into her new seat:<br /><br /><i>...for I am far away and sailing<br />on this darkest sea.</i><br />
<br />
[2194]Brandonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06698839146562734910noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1056706052717983284.post-65317016081346388032012-11-03T21:40:00.001-05:002012-11-09T19:31:53.210-06:001.2 This Darkest Sea (I)Katja had the dream again, but it was far more intense and vivid than usual. There was a sound like a distant gong or bell. It sounded seven times. Then she was standing in an open field and heard a man's laughter. Turning, she saw, for the first time she could remember, the person who had laughed. He was tall, with merry eyes, dressed in a panther skin, crowned with grapevines like some ancient vine god. He laughed again and the whole field caught fire. All around her there was flame, but she was not burning; nor was she herself. She had become some kind of vine with brilliant red flowers that themselves glowed with fire but were not consumed. Then the fire went out and she was Katja again, now standing beside the misty pool, with its overhanging trees, dripping as they would in rain. There was a weeping woman beside her. The woman looked up at her and at that moment the whole world turned upside down. The edge of the pool was still the edge of the pool, but she was in the water looking up at it rather than outside the water looking down on it. Through the surface of the pool she could still see, distorted and vague, the face of the weeping woman. She could not breath, she could not speak, and she could not swim up to the surface. A great metallic hand broke through the surface and reached for her. She began to struggle, and struggled so fiercely that she woke herself up, sitting straight up in bed. She was sweating and breathing heavily. She did not recognize immediately where she was, and it took her a couple of minutes to clear her mind on that score. <br />
<br />
She dressed and got ready as she usually did. When she pressed kitchen calendar it said, "Good morning. The snow on the ground is melting. It is Kesti, the sixteenth of Marashu. The <i>suvo</i> for the day is:<br />
<i><br />Right roads may lead through the gates of death;<br />Just paths shine more as dawning day nears</i>."<br />
<br />
She felt a little cold at that.<br />
<br />
She had finished breakfast and was preparing to leave when the door-tone sounded, indicating that someone was standing on the doorstep. The one-way transparency showed a young man in a trim gray suit. She opened the door.<br />
<br />
"Katja Ilkaiomenen?" he asked politely.<br />
<br />
"I am she."<br />
<br />
"I am from the Island Commissioner's office. We must ask you to come with us. It is a matter of the Oracle."<br />
<br />
"The Oracle?" she asked, completely baffled.<br />
<br />
He stared at her a moment."Didn't you hear it earlier this morning? The whole building rang out, waking practically everyone in the area. The Oracle has spoken. And the Commissioner urgently needs you. Immediately. I don't know anything else."<br />
<br />
Katja grabbed her coat and followed the young man to the vehicle parked on the street outside. Such automotive vehicles are rare on the Island; they are only used for special occasions or hauling large loads. Whatever it was, it certainly must be important.<br />
<br />
As the car traveled westward on the Pahad, toward Belerve Point, Katja tried to think of reasons she could possibly be needed after a pronouncement by the Oracle. Some report she had filed, no doubt; but when it came to thinking of one that could possibly require urgent consultation she could not imagine what it would be. Most of her work was collating data on various aspects of ice age glaciation, which was a slow-moving field if any was, not subject to sudden large-scale crises; and even if there were some crisis, there would be people who dealt with more fundamental aspects than she did. She spent most of her days identifying anomalous measurements that might indicate equipment failure, collating large amounts of data, and making sure that reports that went out did so in the scientific languages. The former two were tedious detail-work, and while Katja enjoyed the last, and it did reach a wide audience, she could think of nothing about it that would require something so momentous as an Oracle pronouncement, an event that had not occurred in her whole lifetime.<br />
<br />
They soon arrived at the Island Commission, just off Belerve Point. She was rushed into the lobby, then into the waiting room, and then into the Commissioner's office, all without any of the usual ceremony. And so she found herself in the Commissioner's office. It was a bare office, with nothing but a desk and a few chairs and a little plaque with a quotation from the <i>Sylevid</i>:<br />
<i><br />Minne was first, swiftest with her hands,<br />keen with her sight and sharp with her mind,<br />stout in her heart, a soul to endure.<br />She looked at the world with learning eyes,<br />clear-eyed maiden.</i><br />
<br />
Across the desk from Katja sat the Commissioner herself, Minne Koskenemen, who regarded her shrewdly.<br />
<br />
"I understand that you translate reports into Ylfae and Simplified Samar," she finally said.<br />
<br />
"Yes," Katja replied.<br />
<br />
"How fluent are you in Ylfae?"<br />
<br />
"I probably wouldn't be able to speak it, but I have reading and writing fluency, and my aural comprehension is reasonably good."<br />
<br />
"And Simplified Samar?"<br />
<br />
"I had high honors for it on my certificate, and I use it almost daily in reading and writing, and at least once a week in oral reports. It is not possible to do anything in my line of work without it."<br />
<br />
"Have you ever at any point been in contact with any Ylfae?"<br />
<br />
"No," Katja replied, baffled. "When would I have ever had the opportunity?"<br />
<br />
"Or any Samar?"<br />
<br />
"No," Katja replied, even more baffled. Being asked a question like that was like being asked if she had ever chatted with Ohu or Tepi, or had lunch with Vanavoen, or had conversations with elves and gnomes in the garden. That the Samar existed she had no doubt; but that did not make them any less creatures of myth and legend, and as distant from her mundane life as any other creature of myth and legend, like dragons or lions.<br />
<br />
"You would, however, be able to converse with a Samar?"<br />
<br />
"Yes," she said. Then she suddenly gripped her chair in excitement and leaned forward. "Are you suggesting that we are receiving a Samar delegation and that you need a translator?"<br />
<br />
Commissioner Minne looked at her for a minute, looking utterly inscrutable. She was a much older woman than Katja, which probably contributed to the unfathomability of her expression, which would have eluded the abilities of youth. She had gold eyeshadow and a trace of gold at her lips; it was all done with skill and subtlety, but perhaps these things too allowed her to retreat behind them. Whatever the reason, Katja could not read her at all.<br />
<br />
Finally the silence ended. "This morning, as you probably know, the Oracle spoke. The pronouncement was short and simple and I can repeat it to you word for word." She picked up a slip of paper. "'Station 3311534 is hereby removed from Winbaric jurisdiction; wardship is committed to the Syylven. Katja Ilkaiomenen is designated administrator. A Consultant has been designated by the Samar and is already in route.'" The paper dropped back on the desk. "Do you know anything about this?"<br />
<br />
Katja was speechless and simply shook her head.<br />
<br />
"Do you know anything about Station 3311534?"<br />
<br />
"No."<br />
<br />
"Neither do I, nor does anyone else I can find. We seem to have no record of it anywhere. The Winbaric are an Ylfae clan, but we have no dealings with them, and we have preciously little information about them, as well. Regardless, you leave today to take over this unknown station of uncertain location from these little-known people. Or more exactly, you are leaving now."<br />
<br />
"I can't...I...."<br />
<br />
The Commissioner cut her short with a wave of her hand. "In absolute strictness I cannot force you. But this was a pronouncement of the Tanaver themselves, and what would it look like if we ignored them? They named you in particular, and no one else. Moreover, it is the feeling of some of the other Commissioners that this might possibly be of some use in the current trade negotiations with the Ylfae, which are not going well. And if that were not enough, they are sending a Samar representative for you, you in particular, you alone, and I need not tell you that that is nearly as momentous as being named by the Oracle. I do not understand it any more than you do, but for better or worse you are now our single most important representative, because whatever Station 3311534 may be, you will be directly representing the Syylven in any matters related to it, and to none other than the Samar themselves."<br />
<br />
Katja rose. "I must go and pack, then."<br />
<br />
"No time," the Commissioner replied. "You head out now."<br />
<br />
"But I have nothing...."<br />
<br />
"No time," the Commissioner said again. "When the Oracle said the Samar representative was in route, it was not lying. A chartered Ylfae-registered ship docked just ten minutes ago at Highpoint Station, with one passenger, and that passenger has Samar credentials. A high-speed railcar is waiting for you at Belerve with reserve track for Southern Launchport; you have highest priority to launch. If there is anything I will <i>not</i> have on my record as Commissioner it is a complaint from the Samar themselves that their representative was kept waiting longer than absolutely necessary."<br />
<br />
[1573]Brandonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06698839146562734910noreply@blogger.com